Dewdrop & Ambrosia
by skyheartz
Summary: Breaking amends and defying Viera tradition, Mjrn is led once more to venture outside of Eruyt Village. Her yearnings return her to a Hume she once knew, where she discovers the love and tragedy between Viera and Hume relationships.  Romance & Drama
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

Morning sun, eternal light - where mother dusk exhales her brightest rays upon the Spiritwood - a fluttering solitary petal falls upon the fountain waters.

A silken-haired Mjrn basked near the fountain ledge, watching the petal drift and ripple across her wavy reflection. Carefully swiping up the petal, she runs it across her nose, then inhales. The scent of morning nectar, beautiful morning blessings, she thought. When the season was right, the land's fruit would ripen, and its flowers would burst with white and pink hues, then drift skyward into the wind before raining its gentle bounty upon the Spiritwood square.

She glimpsed above and saw how the leafy canopy cast a perfect balance between shade and sunlight. The sanctity of this timeless altar was unquestionable: a history of mighty ceremonies conducted and innumerable prayers whispered. She admired this sanctuary, because it too was her abiding refuge whenever her tender spirit cried for retreat. Today, however, she was without her troubles. She had only ascended the Wood's spiraling boughs and walkways for a simple cosmetic errand: a haircut. Only recently did the spurring desire arise although no solid words would clearly explain it. Perhaps just mere instinct, or perhaps redemption: a return to her former look - and also a time when she was free and unrestrained.

Another petal lands upon the waters. And then another. Truly the forest gardens afar were in full bloom. Mjrn felt the cool water spume over her face, so she closed her eyes and permitted the water pearls to collect on her glistening lips before dripping into her yellow corset. Even when alone, she found pleasure in these fleeting moments.

The fountain waters now emitted a pearly glimmer, a perennial layer of scintillating light. The floating petals continued to collect upon the waters. Mjrn unbuttoned and slowly disrobed her black oversweater. Still crosslegged in feminine pose, she then scooted closer over the water and peered again at her youthful image. Then tilting her head sideways, she removed her black embroidered hairband. One by one locks of silver hair collapsed beneath her shoulders. Her reflection was striking: the Viera she saw looked feral and untamed. Her chin-length hair of yesteryear had matured into tresses and curls, a style akin to her elder sister Jote. Still crosslegged, she readjusted her posture until her head clearly hovered over the pool of water. She would cut her hair, and the locks would fall into the rush of purifying rivers below.

She held steady and leaned even closer, uncovering her tender curves and comely physique. She unsheathed a small stiletto blade and carefully proceeded to cut her hair. It had grown longer since her last encounter with Vaan and his party. Such faraway feelings trickled into the present again: memories of Archadian soldiers and scientists, the open sea, dewdrop pebbles, talkative vigilante cockatrices - how long has it all been, she thought, since outsiders and wily events had chanced upon the hallowed grounds of the village? She struggled to mark time the way Humes did. Time here instead was frozen and still. But perhaps, she thought, it was just her who can feel the fine differences, for she was one of the few who had ever escaped the forest's embrace to seek the free winds of Ivalice.

No one talks about the outsiders that had rescued and returned one of their kin. It is strict canon that once a Viera leaves, she is forever exiled. Way of the Wood - the Green Word - but Jote, village elder and diviner of the law, had reluctantly accepted her back. Ever since those days, Mjrn thought, the village returned to vibrant slumber. After those bitter events she doubted the return of any Humes, whether warm-hearted vulgarman or cold-armored soldier. Never again would any outsiders be permitted, even for asylum, save the Moogles and their wares. Woodwarders guarded the gates, and vowed to cut down any trespassers without question and without remorse.

Hume ways are simply that: their ways - a pronouncement of Jote's, she remembered. She would declare that Ivalice remains for the Humes, and the Wood for the Viera. It was the Wood - divine unseen and First Cause - who had always guarded the meek from strife. In turn, the villagers would admit nothing laudable of the Humes who were entangled in their illusions, waste, and perpetual wars. Conflicts which had almost infected their land. Mjrn had once risen to kindly challenge the notion, where she pleaded to Jote that she may lay down her ignorance and listen: that Ivalice was a young magnificent world that shared its wealth with all, not just the Humes. Amidst darkness and death even outsiders could realize the highest potentials of beauty and divine graces. She was witness to it. But Mjrn could never ease Jote's dense convictions. Jote's ways would remain hers, while Mjrn's newfound truth of the world outside was hers alone.

The last lock of hair fell into the water. Now the tender nape of her neck was exposed, and once more she felt the caress of the forest breeze sweep across her soft skin. She felt reborn, but remiss in knowing how to carry forth with her elusive memories. Strong intangible feelings were these, she thought, but dreams she could never act upon, so dreams they continue to remain while etched into the depths of her Viera heart.

Looking into the eyes of her reflection, she shook her head, shifting pose from side to side to examine every nuance of her haircut. She was satisfied. And even with the remembrances returned and yearnings untold and unfulfilled, she manages to smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"Mjrn!" came the faint call. Mjrn's ears twitched as she marked the soft mature cadence in her sister's voice. Mjrn tightened her wet corset and threw on her oversweater.

The voice neared within earshot. "Mjrn?" She rose and turned to discover that it was indeed Jote approaching. Leader and diviner of the village laws, Jote was the one to whom the other Viera entrusted for their spiritual direction. The village fate and weight of their affairs would always fall on her.

Jote matched Mjrn's height, also wearing a black oversweater, ribboned choker, and pink bustier wherever she went, but there was nothing regal of her style. Outsiders would consider her humbly dressed, opposite to the younger Viera whose shorter bobbed hair, and silvery garb and trappings would whet a Hume's lustful appetite.

Jote's shoulders eased as she paused in front of her sister. "Mjrn," she sighed. Mjrn spotted briefly a quaint smile from her elder, but it receded as Jote proceeded to the matter at mand. "I had been searching all over for you," Jote said. "Did you not hear?"

Indeed she had felt the essence of her sister's calls, but delayed her response until she had finished her errand. "I did," Mjrn said, her head hung low. "But I had planned to look for you myself."

Jote sighed and wasted no time in handing Mjrn an empty corked flask. "Take this to your friend Nera and fetch dreamhare dust. You know of which one I speak. The salve-makers have need for new remedies. Take care not to breathe its dust. Do you remember why?"

"Yes, I remember," Mjrn nodded, remembering Nera's mishap when she inhaled the dust. While Vision Dust, a ceremonial powder with no effect on the Viera, was used to becloud and veil the village from interlopers, the Viera had applied various dreamhare powders for other niches. The one Mjrn needed was generally used in small extractions, but heavy doses of the potent incense evoked illusions beyond the plane, confusing its sufferer regardless of race. Salve-makers had once claimed Nera lost until she was found deeply asleep in the meadows, later to be rescued where her healing and recovery stretched for many days.

Mjrn charmingly hopped upon her slender legs and heartily vowed to the request. "I will do this!"

"I see you are in good spirits today?" Jote said observing her sister's avid response.

"Am I?" Mjrn wondered aloud. Had her aura shone brighter, enthusiasm more radiant today from sudden thoughts of Vaan and his friends? "Ah, I am," she said with confidence although withholding the true reason. Instead she replied, "the flowers are lovely today," then turned agaze to the fountain shrine. The waters now gleamed with abundance: azulines and azures, violets and roses, pinks and crimsons and whites. A petaled potpourri now blanketed the waters like a patch in the meadows. Turning to her sister she smiles as a silent affirmation.

"So it is," Jote said, briefly returning the smile. "When you finish, do not loiter for long, but quickly return to me."

Mjrn nodded to the request.

"Mjrn," Jote said sotto voce, and Mjrn listened in to her change of tone. "Have you decided on a path? Perhaps Nera can teach you the skills needed to become salvemaker. Our lives may be long-lived, but remember we are not meant to idle forever."

Mjrn nodded again. She already understood these words, appreciating but wishing she'd not always be reminded. Every seven years Vorpal Bunnies, a scarce dreamhare species, awaken and emerge from the meadows. Small yet vexingly fast, their capture is a rigorous task but the most respected rite of passage for salve-makers. Apprentices strive to collect its dust as proof of worth to the final stages of their coveted profession. Perhaps Jote desired for Mjrn to seize this chance and learn from her ordained peers.

For so long Jote had been guiding her into a suitable profession, between wood-warder or salve-maker, the two major professions of their village. Mjrn knew she was without the warrior spirit, so never had she fancied wood-warding. Instead, her kind countenance led her to ponder professions of a gentler touch, but likewise she never aspired to salve-making.

One truth remained that she swore never to confess: Skypirate, merchant, traveler, adventurer - these splinter trades beyond the forest elated her spirits. Rather than wavering between the forked paths of salve-maker and wood-warder, she pondered the philosophy of fates: eternal sleep or escape? The Green Word or her sovereign choice? It was not the forest, but Ivalice that called out to her the strongest. If I had only followed Fran, she wondered, how would I be? _"The Viera may begin as part of the Wood, but it is not the only end we may choose."_ Familiar words spoken by sister Fran who with burning curiosity sundered the Wood's laws for freedom.

Mjrn waited until Jote departed the square. She would contact the Wood. To sense anima from afar, or to communicate with the otherworld was not a laborious task. All she must do is close her eyes and listen.

Mjrn silenced her being. A kind and calm wind enveloped her, brushing her soft skin, and fluttering her gossamer hair. Her river of thoughts widened and the familiar onrush of energy shoots down her body, then another surge shot skyward. Suspended in the ether and engulfed with the Wood's anima, she was at long last connected in a language dim and elusive to harsh tongues, only to be perceived by the purity of a connected mind and heart. This was the divine energy exchange between Spirit and Viera.

Mjrn asked the Wood of her good friend Nera's whereabouts. Wading through airy sighs and splashes of prismatic light, she proceeded to decipher the energies given to her.

_"In sparkling meadows amidst the greenest verdure,"_ hinted a voice. _"Venture east past babbling brooks and glens and there you will find her."_ Mjrn received the vision in her mind's eye of a Viera donned in scanty and silvery outfit. It was Nera, smiling and foraging. Her presence felt nearby, and she did not seem to linger far from the Spiritwood Square. Mjrn gave thanks, and lovingly the bond between child and mother gently ceased. The encircling breeze tapered away into stillness. Mjrn's eyes opened, and she found herself returned to the physical tranquility of the Spiritwood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Crisp morning air and the quavering of the avion song. Shadows dashed the Spiritwood terrace, and Mjrn discovered aloft flocks of gliding dovelets, their wings spread like sails against the golden sky.

She trailed the winding paths as she continued on for Nera. Along the way, the wide tessellated walkways were smooth and unsoiled as if someone swept it clean daily. Vine-espaliered verandas and conservatories spired the towering trees and flaunted ancient carved brocades. Small shrines were erected in abundance which the Viera would use to meditate, chant, and toss mythril charms into its bubbling pools. Passerbys would saunter over to the waterfalls and admire the prismatic colors suspended in the air.

Further down, an ensouled tapestry of stories unfurled before her. Topped on the hardwood tables were arrays of pestles and mortars, swirled orbs and gems, sigiled flasks, and sunsparkled philters. Seamstresses and dressmakers snapped and straightened their luminous tapestries, colorful linens and threaded cloths, folding and lapping them over one another. Tufts of arrows laid askew, along with daggers, swords, and longbows, some magickally blessed, and some bare. Skilled and apprenticing wood-warders and salve-makers tended their trade, drawn into graceful labor to practice and perfect their technique.

Closer to the ground, the most ancient roots slithered through the soil, petrified in contest, piercing upwardly then anchoring back into the earth. Emerald foliage scattered and the verdure sprung unspoiled. Shades and sunlight would beat like waves along the ground.

The suspended windswept passages and avenues finally reached their end as the path before her now sprouted into many walks towards the lighted valley ahead. Mjrn made a playful leap onto the ground. She bristled as the wind nipped her body and brushed between her legs. The air was abound with a succulent fragrance, like a morning jumbled batch of newly plucked flowers. The closer she approached the river, the more palpable the river scent, and thus the closer Nera's essence became.

Nera finally came into view where she was bent over, picking the dense crimson berries and rinsing the bounty in the rushy waters. Upon seeing her, she schemed to play a trick on her, and so Mjrn snuck up behind the unsuspecting Viera and gently toppled her. Nera careened and turned with a petulant face, but finding that it was her smiling companion Mjrn standing before her, Nera's mood lightened. "Only you would do such a thing!" Nera said, playfully hitting her, and she offered her a berry which Mjrn happily accepted.

After Nera set aside her jumbled wicker basket, she took Mjrn by her slender hands and sat themselves along the damp slated rocks. This was their favorite spot nestled over the gushy rivers where a water spray would spume a sundried face and replenish a weatherbeaten brow, just before the waters would gently break and course into the cool streamlets below.

"I sensed Jote had sent you on an errand," Nera said.

"She has," Mjrn nodded, taking out the empty flask given by Jote. "Dreamhare dust, but, not the one used for Vision Dust. Do you have this?"

"Do not worry about pouring the dust," Nera said, already fishing around her satchel and pulling out a small flask containing the crystal powder. "Be careful with this. It is very strong. I took care to do this for others who seek the same."

Mjrn took it from her hands. Looking at the flasked dust in her hand, she smiled wryly as she remembered Nera's accident of breathing the dust. Nera noticed her creeping smile then playfully hit Mjrn on the arm. "Are you still thinking about what had happened before?"

Mjrn charmingly covered her mouth with one hand, unable to hide her giggling.

"I should open this for you," Nera said attempting to recapture the vial.

"You will not!" Mjrn laughed, weaving through Nera's failed attempts as she defended the vial.

Both laughing, Nera finally settled down. "Tell me, what is the purpose for this dust? There are many uses."

Mjrn held up the vial and permitted the sun to puncture it. The crystal powder shimmered with kaleidoscopic hues. "Jote spoke of remedies for the village," Mjrn said, turning to Nera whose gaze was now intently locked with hers. She felt the frisky Viera wanting to snatch the vial again.

Nera attempted to take another swipe, but Mjrn tugged away and laughed. "You are like a serpent, yet I am too quick for you!"

The nearby bush shivered, seizing both the Vieras' attention. The bush shook again, and its berries dwindled off the pink florets. A feathery ruffling and husky cooing arose from the bush, then a large brown-feathered cockatrice emerged. Its erratic agility and overwhelming stature had frightened the Viera, but the clumsiness radiating from the cockatrice revealed it to be one they were acquainted with. "Chit," Mjrn sighed with newfound relief. "Come here."

"I was tending to my bowels," Chit replied, ruffling his white-wattled jowl and portly plumage. His roundish body had grown monstrously over the days, yet his thighs and wings had resisted time, remaining small and stubby. He was one of sparkling intelligence, highlighted by his peculiar highbrow Archadian accent, like a Hume trapped in bungling plumage who could speak in noble tongues.

Mjrn noted he was devouring something. "Chit, are you eating...?"

"These are wonderful berries, my dear," Chit chimed in before Mjrn could finish her words. "Tending my bowels, yes. But if you believed I was consuming them, you are greatly mistaken!"

Chit observed the berried batch that had shaken off the bush. Choosing one, he perched himself steadily before struggling to dissect one, but each one kept rolling off his stubby beak. "Curse these things!" he squawked.

Mjrn ambled over to hold one down for him. Chit engulfed one, and his eyes widened. "I swallowed it!" Chit said.

Mjrn was confused. "Was that not your intent?"

"Not entirely. To halve it then slowly enjoy its flavor, yes, but not to swallow it whole!"

Mjrn took another berry, dusted it and then carefully bit into its firm flesh. She cupped the perfect halves and handed it for Chit to feed upon. "Here," she said.

"Ah, thank you," Chit said, pecking and feeding at the cupped bounty. Chit shivered as Mjrn ran her hand down his spine "I see you have a penchant for the avion's feathery ruff?" he said.

"I do," Mjrn smiled. "Have you just returned from Ivalice?"

"I have, " Chit replied, mashing the berry in his beak. His attention remained drawn to the berries under him. "Much I have to say about affairs beyond this sleepy plane."

Mjrn stayed in the Wood, but Chit was her sprightly messenger who would deliver to her the rumors and revelations circulating Ivalice. As Chit dispatched himself into the outer world, days would pass before he would return again to his true home in the Wood. _No hunter or fiend finds me here_, he would say. The wood-warders who patrol the forest don't seem to mind Chit's whimsical odysseys, either.

Mjrn would listen to Chit's stories of the Viera who had ventured into the new world. Some, Chit would say, freely wander its infinite walks, securing many new professions, and some still wander for curiosity's sake where many earn the coveted titles of _skypirate_ or _wayfarer_.

Chit began a new story of a Hume whose newfound love was a Viera who had wandered Rabanastre for so long, and it was then that Mjrn and Nera listened raptly. A lovestruck man had moped around Rabanastre with an incurable depression. His ailment was an emptiness that could only be filled by a Viera that he had fallen in love with. He had lost sight of the wandering Viera and had searched many days without luck throughout the city. With no trace of her and fearing that she was another wayfarer from overseas, he became heartbroken until a boy approached him. The boy would later help the man rendezvous with his Viera love at the Sandsea tavern, who had always resided there.

Mjrn and Nera seemed touched by the unusual concoction of fates where even love between Viera and Hume could blossom outside of the forest. Chit revealed that he still sees the couple within Rabanastre.

"Does she still love him?" Nera interjected.

"My dear," Chit began, "the truth was apparent in her eyes. They remain soulmates to this day."

Something inspired Mjrn and elated her heart into a mysterious air, and it compelled her to ask about her sister Fran. Sometimes down that annexed bridge between the village and the jungle, she would imagine a smiling Fran walking through the tessellated azure gates. Fran would receive her in embrace and she would call her "_sister"_ once more.

"What of Fran?" Mjrn asked.

Chit paused before giving an answer. "No, my dear. Many Viera I have seen along the way, but, your sister? No. Nor her skypirate partner for some time."

Nera, who was listening to this, turned to Mjrn. "There has been something I wanted to ask you: had there been times when you wanted to see your sister again?"

Mjrn remained silent. The truth was hard for her to admit, and Nera knew that whenever Chit would return from Ivalice, Fran was always a part of her gentle inquiries.

"What are you thinking about now?" Nera said gently. Mjrn's head hung low. She was lost in thought, and within her peripheral vision she saw Nera trying to look into her eyes. Perhaps Nera was observing how quiet she had become.

"It is nothing," Mjrn said softly.

"You know that not to be true," Nera said.

Mjrn sighed, repressing her heartfelt urge to tell Nera. Mjrn would never forget the calmsight of the Wood's verdure. Every stray branch kindly brushes the skin, leaves flutter and fall in the perfect places, and the moss tufts and entangling vinery endow their artful expressions that are forever preserved amongst the stony ruins. Everything she is, her compassion and purity, was from the refuge under the Wood's mightiest boughs, and the Wood always granted grace to those troubled Viera, even those who deserted her once and wept for return.

But above the Spiritwood terrace, where the air and avions were free of their leafy asylum, sights of the horizon would compel one to dream forever, and it is these countless sunrises and sunsets where Mjrn dreams again, reveries of another infant place. When night approached, the sun's last falling ray would be Mjrn's first coursing tear.

"I wish to leave this Wood again," Mjrn began, unable to contain the truth any longer. She placed her hand upon her chest as heartsickness began to clench at her voice, and she quivered when she spoke, yet she relented. "My capture by the Humes was not pleasant, yet it has shown me much. I have dreamt beautiful visions outside Ivalice, and too, horrible nightmares. The forest slumbers deeply, but, I feel that the Viera, too, are this way. I fear I should not say any of this. It is my home after all." She looked away, shy of what she had just said.

For a moment, the dovelets sung and the waters rolled and babbled down the rocks, but Nera had not said a thing. Mjrn did not want to see her reaction, fearing scorn and bewilderment from her friend. But suddenly, Nera placed her warm hand on hers. "It is not wrong to think such things," said Nera. "Do you fear to speak of these things with me? You should not be afraid."

Mjrn's fears slowly subsided and she rested her head on Nera's shoulder. "At times, I feel I should keep these thoughts as my own," Mjrn said, alluding to a time when the older Viera shunned her of similar mutterings, thus treating her yearnings as the meanderings of a misguided child.

"There are times when I had desired the same," Nera said, stroking Mjrn's hair. "I would listen to the wood-warders' stories, and I would become overwhelmed with the goings outside that I had conspired once to leave."

Mjrn was surprised. "And why had you not gone?" Mjrn asked.

Nera was silent for a moment. "I was afraid. No one would take me beyond the village, or the jungle. In the end, I had thought it best to stay in the embrace of the Wood. She has always been my home."

"But, will you not tell Jote and the others of this? Of me? I do not want her knowing that I am still with these thoughts."

"No, I cannot, because your dreams were also mine," Nera said with a smile. "There is much I had hidden from the others as well. Once I had helped Alja when she became too weak to capture the Vorpal Bunny on her own. Did you know I feared scorn from the elders, to help her in such a way? While I was concerned for Alja that she may not succeed as salve-maker, I had set aside my worries and asked Vaan to hunt the Vorpal Bunny. But, it was Alja who had scolded in the end when she discovered my ill-gotten gains."

"Excuse me my dears," Chit interrupted, "but these radical yearnings of yours are well-respected in Ivalice. Strangely, those outsiders who roam Ivalice for a time find they still search for some otherworldly fulfillment. It is as if existing in Ivalice is not enough. Being free is not enough. Ivalice is indeed a young world. Ah, I said too much." Chit continued devouring his berries.

Nera looked at Mjrn and then stroked her hair. "I will say nothing. I promise you."

"I will do the same," Mjrn said. "This will be our secret."

Mjrn was relieved to be in the presence of her companions. She had revealed her most sacred wishes, casting them towards the fountain of friendship in hopes it'd be carried away into the cool fertile soil. One day, she thought, these wishes, however distant and unwise, would strive for the light, then bloom.

An explosive boom swallowed up the forest peace, and like shattering flasks, colorful avions scattered from their leafy shelters. Another thundering rip, and with desperate cries, more avions dispersed and joined those who had already fled skyward for safety. Something was afoot in the village. Mjrn looked to the air which sounded like a bombardment in the skies, a sound foreign within the forest reach, but she could see nothing but the flocking avions.

"What was that?" Mjrn said still searching the skies.

"We must go," Nera said, her face frozen with perplexity as she staggered onto her feet. "I feel something near the gates."

Mjrn tried to place her thoughts near the village gates. "I sense something there as well, but I do not know what it is."

Chit squawked as another explosion rippled through the air. "Ack! And I'm supposed to be out of here today." Chit scampered ahead of Mjrn and Nera before turning his body around. "I make for the village, my dears. I pray that what I find isn't horrible. Keep up with me if you can."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Holding hands, Mjrn and Nera ambled up the surmounting hardwood paths, the clacking of their stilettos like strenuous trotting as they chased after the rippling disturbance above. The sprightly Chit had already spirited onward, his monstrous body a mere fluffy pixel as he disappeared into the distance. Mjrn dreaded the ensuing violence ahead, but with seeing much of the flocking avions escaping towards the west, she knew the disturbance emerged eastward near the forest gates, the bridged annex between the gentle forests and the harsh jungles.

One billowing peal spawned another, its echoes riveting from east to west until the dissonance ricocheted from all cardinal winds. Swiftly the noise morphed resonance, with each muffled boom fading into the crackling murmur of steel and stone. _No, not this,_ Mjrn thought; _not at the village: that was the sound of magicked gunfire._ No wood-warding Viera within the forest walks were trained to use firearms. The only possibility then was that a faction of Humes had dissolved and stormed the gates.

Mjrn's plummeting despair rifted her heart. She feared that the Archadian perpetrators had finally come for all of the Viera, but what business have they now with a calm pacifist people, and what reason to violate the sanctity of these ancient magicked barricades? Had the Archadians not ceased their warring for longtime peace? It too escaped Mjrn how outsiders deciphered the seals encircling and protecting the enclaved forest unless one obtained Lente's Tear or pleaded in spirit permission from the Wood, but even this privilege would be renounced. No Hume possessed the gift of spiritual communion as the Viera did.

Memories of Archaidan airships and glossaired armadas erupted into her present, and remembering the might and strength wielded by these Humes, she grasped a semblance of what fate awaited the Viera. Inferior to the advanced Archadians, she foresaw the vigilant Viera pursuing a losing defense. For the sake of the Wood and her people, she prayed Vaan and his entourage were already tailing behind the aggressors.

Hurrying up the slopes, Mjrn called to the Wood, but the cannonade bursts had mired her with anxiety, dulling her ears from ever hearing the forest voice. She turned to Nera and asked her to listen to the voice of the Wood, but even Nera could not hear. "Mjrn, sister," Nera said panting, "The disturbance is too great. There is too much to bear and I cannot silence my senses long enough to hear her."

Mjrn nodded, knowing they both would encounter the truth with their eyes. She glimpsed the tearful glint in Nera's eyes, and with pity and love for her friend she clasped the young Viera's hand to reassure her that she would not face that truth alone. Never in her short lifetime had Nera encountered war's strife and turbulence, and she could sense in her shuddering breath that she was consumed by the same despairs and uncertainties devouring them both.

The tempest emerged louder until the sputtering gunfire pervaded within earshot. Prevailing over the final upsweep of walkways, many Viera fled in myriad directions, but too fast for Mjrn to stymie their retreat and inquire about the disturbance.

Finally the truth unraveled as Mjrn and Nera approached the stunning war scene: Wood-warders hailed from above, raining arrows and casting torrential waves of fire and ice magick into the mob, but the luminous skirmish below was absent of Viera. The battle instead was incited between Humes in front of the entrance, with the Viera above clearly supporting one side of the brawl.

Together Mjrn and Nera hid behind a ledge to observe the clash. Amid the steel and gunshots, it appeared to be an even fight of about 30 men. One side was a stocky and lightly armored ragtag group, with many of the gruff men donned in leather cuirass, and armed nimbly with crossbows, dirks, daggers, broadswords and ornate rifles. Mjrn could not illuminate from their simple equipment the kingdoms they served or whose interests they obeyed. But from the show of their uneven gear and motley fashion, it alluded to their identities as skypirates and mercenaries, hired swords to do the ulterior bidding of some other authority.

Opposite them was a shimmering entourage of knights who thrusted their longswords and spears against the oppressors. This dark-steel armored group was swift, agile, and armed with intricately tempered blades. The sheen of their sigiled armor marked the careful craftsmanship of Archadia. It was evident Archadian soldiers defended the Viera, who in turn were attacking the skypirates, but it eluded Mjrn of what the truth of it all was.

One skypirate ordered his group to back away. Now exposed was an airy gap between the Archadians and the mercenaries, and together the skypirates were instructed to aim down their rifle sights. They pointed, shot, and in one mighty volley a red fiery wave exploded towards the Archadian vanguard. For one fleeting moment smoke and silence from their desperate volley shrouded their line of sight. Their faces were anxious and hopeful as the veil rolled away, hoping they'd hit something, but as the smoked veil dissolved, it was evident their final attack had penetrated nothing. Their faces shifted from hope to dread as they found the Archadian legionnaire unharmed and still locked into their tactical fighting formation.

The lurking Archadians now stood like a fortified wall between the village and the skypirates. One skypirate declared his group to keep their firearms aimed, and they launched another magicked volley. Suddenly the shots became scattered and desperate until they were all firing aimlessly into the Archadian vanguard. Every projectile would dissolve into the green aura protecting the soldiers.

"Surrender yourselves," emerged the muffled voice exhaled behind the leader's steel faceplate. "The jungle entrances have been sealed by Archadian forces. Your trespasses will not go unaddressed. Lay down your arms. It is over."

The commander of the group who said this was unscathed and still poised in formation, and he emerged into the rift dividing the two groups. Mjrn noticed the striking differences of this man's blackened armor. His helm was bullhorned like a demon. His fluted chestplate and brocaded vambraces traced an illusory chiseled physique. On his cape was an imperial emblem she had never seen before: a deep crimsoned sigil inset on black leather. Like a black-winged avion, he fanned out two greatswords to indicate his supreme authority.

Every lurking step the armored commander took, his greaves clinked, and the skypirates would take one timid step back. The Archadian footsoldiers and hoplites followed in, poised in stance and ready to strike should the skypirates refuse their capture. With distraught faces and knowing they were inferior to their surrounding foes, the skypirates slowly dropped their weapons and surrendered. An Archadian soldier commanded them all to kneel and keep their arms held up, and they complied. Convinced the skypirates were unarmed, the commander of the soldiers ordered them arrested and tied up for escort.

Mjrn helped raise Nera up from their crouched position. She could sense the speechless Nera's fear dwindling away, and Mjrn reassured her that everything seemed to be over. "I do not fully know what had happened here," Mjrn said. "But I will find out the truth." She looked over the ledge for Jote who was speaking with the demon-armored soldier. "Nera, go with the others. I must speak with my sister." Nera nodded and she walked off in the opposite direction.

The intruders were lined up as a caravan of prisoners, chained and magickally tethered to one another. They had just started their shameful march out into the jungle after a hasty interrogation by the commanding Archaidan who was now speaking with Jote. Mjrn hurried over, her gait slowing until the conversation between her sister and the Archadian became clear.

"Thank you, but that is all," Jote said. "Do not expect us to give you any quarter here."

"We had spies following them. We had not known they were targeting the village. Larsa would have us protect you, out of duty and in reverence to the past."

_Larsa?_ Mjrn thought. "_The past?" _The name was familiar to her, but she couldn't place a hard recollection of the time and place of the name.

"I have assigned my men to patrol the outskirts of Golmore jungle," he continued. "It is for the safety of the village. You may not trust the Humes, but I assure our presence would repel rather than invite those who wish harm on your people. That much I can promise until we uncover what Draklor's scientists want from the Viera."

"Hmph," Jote said unmoved. She had looked away defiantly. Mjrn recoiled from the audacity, wishing that Jote would just once gracefully drop the angst and accede the truth: had it not been for the Archadian interception, the outcome would've been devastating. "Very well," Jote said. "But once you are finished here, leave at once." She then walked off, the clacking of her heels tapering away.

The man did not react defensively, but gave a solemn nod acknowledging the cold request. Mjrn took note of the man's calm demeanor. How peculiar, she thought, of a man once armed with fighting tenacity, could now segue into civility and politesse.

But Mjrn still felt she must reassure him of any misunderstanding. "It is not that we are ungrateful," she said, staring into the man's faceplate, but unable to determine the contours of his eyes. "I cannot speak for all the Viera, but I am sure many will be thankful for your aid." Unable to conjure more proper words, she removed her gaze, still unsure of the man's emotions. She reviewed her words and wondered if she could say more, but she judged it to be enough, and then proceeded to turn and walk away as her sister did.

Mjrn took a few steps before the man spoke again. "You are Mjrn," he said, his tone more softer and less commanding. Mjrn paused as her anxious heart quivered. She turned to the man again. There was a familiar cadence in his voice that she could not uncover. "Fran's sister," he continued.

Before Mjrn would utter a response, she stepped forward, gazed curiously, and squinted obliquely into the metallic faceplate, attempting to make out whatever she could of the Hume's face, but the ornate insets and devilish design of the faceplate concealed his identity. Mjrn finally replied: "How do you know my name? And my sister Fran?"

"We had rescued you from captivity once," the man said unfastening his faceplate then removing the horned helm completely. "With Vaan and the others. I am sorry to startle you. And I am sorry if you do not remember those times."

Swept with surprise, her memory swelled, as if a chained door locked away from her had finally opened itself. _Basch, was that your name?_ She asked, and he nodded. She had not conversed much with this man on the return home after captivity from Draklor's scientists. She remembered the long-haired man humbly garbed in a Dalmascan soldier's plain armor. Kind, noble, but kept to his solitude, but when needed, defended his party and the princess. The time-rejuvenated man before her was now clean cut with shorter blond hair, clad with a steel countenance and majestic aura. His facial features were handsome and comforting despite the scar sweeping from the forehead to over his left eyebrow. His elusive voice however was still the same as she remembered it: strong, pleasantly deep, befitting of a man of his stature.

"But, why are you sorry," Mjrn said. "This was not your doing."

Basch had no immediate answer. He put the helm back on, refitted and reclasped the faceplate, and turned towards the caves.

"Let us walk," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

He was Judge Magister now.

Both strolled alongside each other as Mjrn listened intently to Basch's account. Archades was led by the young emperor Larsa. Basch escorted Queen Ashe of Dalmasca into overtures, from the far reaches of Ordalia, to the Jagd-laced lands of Kerwon. Empires and city states and holy lands remain unscathed, left in peace, with some of the empire's past sins and crimes being rightly rectified. His daily duties still keep him occupied.

Mjrn asked of Vaan and Penelo's whereabouts, but Basch answered that rarely did he run into them. Since the dissolution of Vayne's reign of terror and the sinking of the sky fortress Bahamut, they had all disbanded. It was a somber parting, but they knew Ivalice would be reborn and that new sojourns would be upon them. The winds of Ivalice may steer them elsewhere and dim the fire of their friendship, yet the flicker remains pure.

He admitted, however, to a rendezvous with the whimsical couple not far back. Vaan and Penelo had once snuck aboard his airship during a vital escort of Queen Ashe to Archades. Archadian soldiers and officers ratcheted up a fleet-wide alert, locking down the entire ship as soldiers scrambled to seize the foes who, like dire rats, were swiftly evading every security trap on the ship. A cadre of commanding officers onboard was left dumbfounded when the Judge Magister informed them that the two rapscallions were indeed the Judge's close friends. Basch had beckoned Vaan and Penelo into the bridge and implored them to explain their antics. They confessed to plotting against his privacy by wishing him a grand birthday and proclaiming the news throughout the entire Archadian fleet.

Mjrn smiled envisioning a flushed red Judge. She was now warmly awash with fondness, a sublime longing plucking at her heartstrings. She hoped he would speak more, and in turn she would envision it, and perhaps ask more of her sister Fran, but their brief promenade would soon end.

An armored procession of Archadian soldiers had already rounded up the skypirate cargo and marched out the prisoners, except for one. A brown-haired man in tattered leather pants and cuirass was cordoned by smoky armored soldiers. He lay prostrate with one cheek planted on the floor of the hardwood bridge. His hands were magickally bound and cuffed behind his back, and his movements restrained by the ironed tips of the broadswords pointed resolutely at the man. Mjrn felt an upwelling tinge of remorse from the pitiful sight. They appeared to be waiting for Basch's arrival.

"Sir, did you need this man?" One faceplated officer asked Basch. Mjrn heard this, not understanding the question.

"Yes," Basch said as he returned to the matter at hand. He then motioned his men to back away and stand down. Then he looked downward to the kneeling one. "You are no skypirate."

"No, I am not," the knelt man replied, gathering himself on his knees and recovering from his prostrate form, "but you already knew that, Judge Magister."

Basch ignored the snide remark. "And you are a scientist, once belonging to Draklor's Weapon research during Vayne's rule."

"Oh, you know so much Judge Magister," came the man's piquant riposte. "Would it surprise you that I know just as much as you do? Spare me the history review; I am not the only one."

"Then there are others of your ilk?" Said Basch.

Mjrn saw the man's face writhe, foretelling that he had probably revealed more than he wished. Her pity waned as she observed his contempt, suspecting more may be underlying the village breach.

"Our numbers are legion, Judge," he said, his tone notably exasperated. "We are everywhere."

Basch beckoned Mjrn over. "Mjrn, I am sorry to involve you, but can you identify this man?"

Mjrn carefully walked over and looked into the man's steel blue eyes. His gaze penetrated hers and there reeked a stifling and abhorrent air about him. He had a thick brown beard and bushy mustache, apparently middle-aged. Then she remembered her captivity years ago in a mine overflowing with Mist, being strapped next to a stone, and it was this man's face she last saw before the glistening Mist blackened her out into a rage, almost killing Vaan and his party, including her beloved sister Fran.

"I remember him," Mjrn hesitated. "He was among those who captured me many years ago."

"Yes," the man said smugly. "I was a scientist then. A researcher of sorts. And you must be the Viera we had toyed with years ago. The sight of your madness was enough for us to determine the endearing effects of manufacted nethicite upon your race."

Basch spoke again. "We had thought all Archadians and Draklor scientists dead in the Henne Mines. You had escaped. Aside from Cid, were there others still alive?"

The scientist looked away and said nothing.

"Tell me," Basch demanded.

"- I do not know," he muttered.

Basch grabbed him by his shirt collars. "Tell me everything and your sentencing in Archaidan courts will not be as severe."

"I said," the man insisted, "'I do not know.' We had set beside her the nethicite and allowed Mist to consume her. Something unknown emerged and we could not reverse the experiment. I knew the soldiers were too weak to contain it and I escaped on my own. Yes, when you and your ragmen arrived, I had already left all for dead."

"And you escaped with what you could of the nethicite?"

"With whatever strength I had, I carried what was left."

Basch pushed him back, the scientist lumbering back onto his rear. "Tell me then," Basch demanded, "where is the rest of the nethicite?"

"Shared among nationalists," he murmured.

"What do you mean," Basch said.

"Sentence me however you wish, Judge Magister, this will not halt us," the scientist said, now delirious. "Oh, this manufacted nethicite, is a sweet gift born from man's knowledge and the blessings of the gods."

_"Gods?"_ Mjrn remembered before drifting into a rage during her captivity, there was a vision of sternly pulsating eyes emanating from a shadow shrouded in an elegant brocaded robe. The patterns and trellises were foreign, presumably ancient and beyond anything she had seen in her short time outside the Wood. This mysterious deity entered her dreams from time to time. She dizzied from the memories and careened.

"Mjrn," Basch said, noticing her awkward sway. "Are you not feeling well?"

"No, I am fine," Mjrn replied, recovering from her staggering, though she knew it not to be the truth.

"That Viera knows what I speak of," the scientist said. "The after effects of manufacted nethicite still consume you."

Mjrn flinched as Basch leapt towards the man and lifted him by the collar.

"What was your intent here with the nethicite?" Basch demanded, Mjrn now sensing sensing his flaring agitation. "Had you planned to destroy the village?"

"Destroy?" The scientist replied smugly. "Oh, you of the simple soldier mind. What do you understand about Creation? What you consider ruin, we see rebirth."

"Your kind will be found," Basch said, slowly releasing his grip. "Whether in Archadia or Rozzaria's farthest shores, you will not succeed." Basch then turned to the soldiers still with him. "Take him."

"Alright, you," motioned one soldier with his broadsword. "Let's go." The scientist got up without a word, and with three soldiers, began their march towards the gates to join with the rest of the prisoner escort.

Basch sighed, turning to overlook the bridge ledge, then spoke pensively into the morning horizon.

"I am sorry to make you see all this," Basch began. "But much has been astir in the empire. We had reformed Draklor, but many escaped into hiding. The empire now walks the path of peace, but some cannot let go of their allegiances to the past, or to manufacted nethicite. They would go as far as inflaming war and disloyalty. That scientist, your captor, was once loyal to Cid. But there are still others like him with manufacted nethicite, scattered through Ivalice. I am unsure if they act on their own, or if something more sinister is in the works."

Basch returned his armored gaze to Mjrn, but the cold devilish faceplate concealed his face. He was like a steeled demon heaving within his smoky tinted cocoon. "I am sorry to say so much," Basch finally said.

What lay now between the embattled Judge Magister and the elegantly simple Mjrn was the solemn silence when two beings of parallel worlds unite and coalesce, attempting to understand the other. Mjrn's eyes focused on the shadowy spaces of Basch's steel faceplate.

"Basch," Mjrn said. "Let me see your face."

For a moment, Basch didn't react, but then he carefully unclasped and unhinged his faceplate, then removed the helm to unveil his stolid expression. Mjrn was mysteriously drawn to his blue eyes, the scar over his eye like a testament of all the strife that any soldiered Hume could withstand. War-making, sigiled parchments, the trifles and tumult of Hume affairs overwhelmed her elegantly simple ways, but she could sense beneath the cold carapace his noble intent and sacrifice for all concerned, whether Hume or Viera.

"I do not know what it is like to bear your burdens," Mjrn began. "I wish I could see what you see."

Basch had not responded, but nodded. "I understand we are not wanted here," he said, resuming his formal soldiered demeanor before Jote had left. "I have ordered my own to keep watch throughout the Jungle. You will not be seeing us within the village anymore, but for the safety of the Viera and its villages, we will patrol and protect as we see fit."

"Where will you go?" Mjrn asked.

"I head for Archades," Basch replied. "And you?"

She had nowhere to go, but didn't know how to reply to a question that was unexpectedly redirected back to her.

Basch refitted his helm before speaking again. "It is true curiosity lead us astray. Yours was strong enough to take you from the village and into captivity. As I had told Queen Ashe long ago: we are the arbiters of our destiny. That right will always be yours. Your sister knew this and she sacrificed everything to the end. She did not answer to anyone else."

Mjrn knew he alluded to Fran. She had expected Basch to chide her, just as Fran had advised her to stay secluded within the village, but his words had surprised her. She simply nodded, humbly acceding to his advice.

"Do not be afraid," Basch said, back now turned. "And do not feel guilty. That is all I can say."

He left no farewell as he began his final stride towards the guarded gates, his armor rattling and sigiled cape wavering with every step. It was graceful. Majestic. Mjrn was suddenly struck by an unknown flicker emanating deep within, which upturned into a heartrending as Basch walked farther away. A part of herself was reaching out to grasp what was left of his image, and another part of her desired to chase after him, to look into his face once more, and to inquire about the true meaning of his words: _"What do you mean, Basch? Do you mean to escape this village and be free? Is that what you would have me do?"_ And she would implore him to look at her, without the horrible helm and instead with the purity of his own eyes, so that she may confess to him that everyday she had always dreamt these beautiful visions of life beyond.

But the Judge Magister finally segued into the glistering azured gates, the doorway which the Wood-warders were resiliently guarding until the last Archadian would depart. The gates resumed their magickal tessellations and the temporary grassy path behind it dissolved, hiding the Wood and sealing Ivalice away.

The air ceded into the solace of rustling and chirruping. The last Hume had finally left the Wood. Basch's voice was another memory adrift in the wind: sweet, but distant, and she despaired it so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **Thanks to albi90, fallacies, arnoldpseudonym, brown rabbits, and -Kazzlar for the positive reviews. I turned on notifications this time so I can respond more quickly to comments.

I haven't forgotten about this story. I even plugged it into my project management app for better focus. Chapter 7, 8 and 9 are already written, just simmering for a final edit before posting. Thanks again!

**Chapter 6:**

_In one feathered detonation, Mjrn launched into the sky. She was a dovelet again, free, liberated, her wings finally unbound._

_She soared the white sandswept shoreline. Above billowed azure-hued cumulus which drifted along the sky's cardinal flow. She felt the charted course headed eastward where winds were resiliently guiding her. Off to the horizon it looked as if a newborn suncryst had gently cast its perpetual glimmer along the ocean verge, and while Mjrn watched it all with a silent solitude, suddenly her heart brimmed with the fleeting sense of infinity and foreverness._

_She spread outwardly her wings and fluttered them, drawing the cool rippling wind through her plumage and ivory crest. Resolving to test her avion form and defy her limits, she gleefully dove towards the sea's surface, dashed and rolled through the furrowing tides, then skimmed the warm spumes and allowed the frothy suds to lather her body. Flying over the lagoons, the translucent turquoise curtain unveiled the aquatic realm where its infinite sealife thrived. Schools of yensafish swam the emerald flora beds and rosy coral fields. Toppled statues and moored airships lay stilted in the seabed. Stone columns and sunken temples were scattered, covered in algae and florescent verdure. Even in ruin they pillared heavenward as if to breach the surface and resurrect their Valendian antiquity._

_Skyward to the south, sapphire magicite surmounted the lush floating skylands. Northward, red and black chocobos grazed the rising steppes. Glens and springs would unify into a river, and its waters would cascade the weathered clefts and slopes before collapsing into the pure blue sea. _

_Then drawled a seaward voice: "Bhujerba, Balfonheim, Purvama" - The airy voice emitting a semblance of comfort._

_She continued her carefree maneuvers into the coastline. She darted parallel into the sandy crescent, the rolling surf and wandering crustaceans fading into peripheral sight as she sped over them. Far away arose a hodgepodge of blocky structures which resembled a town, but the pigments looked smeared and daubed like an unfinished painting. A glassy mist shivered over like a mirage and rendered the town's precise architectural shapes indistinct. But pitching upwards into the skies, her aerial senses exploded with clarity, gifting her sight of the entire seaport which nestled along the sandy inlet. So high was her height that the sounds of the surf had softened into a lullaby of steady rhythms and whispers. _

_Seaport life below her ripened into action, sprung with new vitality, and like miniature figurines she saw the inhabitants roaming the cobblestone walks, some idling and some strolling, with a few urgently bouncing to their destinations. East of the seaport jutted a ramp where airships of exotic make and design were docked and moored. Their glossair engines were unwound and their sails were cinched up, but in the sun they flaunted a healthy metallic sheen. A few airships had begun to respin their glossair engines where a florescent burst of blue unhinged them from the dock, then shot them away into the cumulus seas. She took the port to be a sanctuary of rest not only for a selected tribe, but for all freefolk and wayfarers who had returned from voyage._

_Mjrn had enthroned herself in the sky, but still the seabound marvels captivated her: what other riches hid among Ivalice's rockworn chambers and passes? The emblossomed fruits sprouting along her lands? What life hid within the vined enclosures and chasms? And what treasures must the steppe ravines lead to? What freefolk roamed this wondrous harbor? Shore and lands she wish she knew. _

_The foreign voice returned in song, and it swelled within her as she encircled the seaport. The song began to enmesh with the singing of Bangaa, Hume, Seeq, and even the Viera. She could not see them, but their voices were clear. _

_This wasn't the song of the Wood, but a song foretelling of flight and bonding. The language and spoken tongue she had never heard before, yet in her heart the voices prevailed. She listened until the hearty cadences were crisp enough to make out:_

_On windswept wings we float aloft_

_To know these shores of father sky_

_By azure dreams our wills abide_

_And through our homeland we shall fly…_

_The song's couplet ended with a peal of carefree laughter, crowned by a hearty toast of mugs and glasses. Mjrn couldn't repress her laughter at the amateur choir: they sounded silly together, even if their voices and vernacular were perfectly unified in song. But to see them sing so freely, playfully and out of pure joy had aroused a tender longing to descend into the seaport._

_Suddenly the festive seaport smeared into lightwaves, then burned into gossamer slivers. The laughing waned and died away. Turquoise seas and skies paled. Mjrn attempted to swoop below and recapture the once vivid seaport, but the pastel pall returned as an unfinished painting, and everything around her melted into the void. _

That void: the silence and smoldering blackness after every dream's end.

The salty pungency of the open sea had morphed into a grassy whiff. The breeze bristled her arms, and she twitched from the sensation of warmth on bare skin, instead of ruffling. She knew she had returned once again to the meadows.

Mjrn aired a muted sigh, pressing her temples and writhing from the truth. Of course she wasn't an avion. Opening her eyes she discovered the softly citrined sky above and found herself upon a dense cloverbed she had dozed away on not too long ago.

She rolled over to one side and pensively traced the dirt with her finger. _"Boujourba, Balfphonhaim, Pervahma,"_ she said slowly, wishfully. The pronunciation and syllabary eluded her, but carefully she recited them. She would shape her lips, flick her tongue, and circumvent the rolling pitch of the syllables until they sounded just perfect to her. Rolled on her back, she pondered again the names.

The dreams themselves pulsed a peculiar lifeforce. She would proceed with her day after awakening from her visions, dropping the trifling effort to remember. But times came when a chant or prayer stirred a hidden memory, kindled like warm embers before igniting into a sprightly firedance. Her distant dreams would quiver into their raw entirety. The warmth would send her into a pleasing sway, and with eyes closed, she would try to relive the sensations. When other Viera caught her in a trance, they would allege that she was daydreaming again, then poke and nudge her back into their reality.

But perhaps that's why she detested lingering any longer in the Wood. Knowledge of the true Ivalice burned like magicite cinders from which these dreams would feed and manifest. An ailment of burning visions incurable by any known magick. Everything witnessed in her singular predictable existence would remind her of some vision she had the night before, or the night before that, or even nights beyond that. The elegant ethereal weaves were unending, phantasmal plays without a finale, drifting her down a wistful river of sagas.

Her world collided between Basch and the Viera. Basch's words still tempted her, tampering with her will even if Viera life lapsed again into slumber.

_"Destiny,"_ she recited, remembering the helm, the scent of armor, and the timeworn scar upon his youthful face. The word's meaning and condensed power was enough to justify her onward desire.

And there was the small fear: she wondered if it was just the Occurian deity Venat invading her mind and luring her away. Yet her decision remained evident: if all she would do is dream then she desired it no more. She would rather suffer in Occurian possession than suffer every night in the forest.

No longer would she adhere to the Viera's rationale. She rejected wholeheartedly now their stifling canon of staying cradled while Ivalice evolved and moved farther into their collective destiny. She wanted to be strong like Fran and run, fly, even if the risk meant becoming a new Viera, not just for the Wood, but for Ivalice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

"What! Do you truly mean this?" Chit said aghast, wobbling from Mjrn's sudden confession. Chit had returned from the outside, promenading the valley meadows when he found Mjrn anew and awakened from her sleep.

"Yes, I cannot wait any longer," Mjrn said. She sat up, stretched, yawned, rubbing her forehead, and still recovering from the bygone dream.

"What a revelation," Chit aired. "But the Jungle runs amok of the foul, and their stench reeks of -! Ah, you remember it. You should not travel its routes alone again."

"I do not know any other way," said Mjrn. She weighed delicately her choices. No Viera wood-warder would wager their life as an escort. Long ago when she sought the Archadian scientists, she had escaped the jungle unscathed, relying on intuition to evade the prowling coeurls and hellhounds. She pondered traveling alone again, but she shivered to think of the creatures now lingering outside. The Wood's merciful reach never extended to the jungle, and carrying inspirited earth charms were trivial for her defense. Amid the dark green wild, even the rare lonesome flowers had lethally bloomed into flesh-rending beasts.

Mjrn sighed into a disheartened slump. Musing skyward, she now wished she had taken up wood-warding. At least then she could have confided in her own strength and skill despite her softhearted mien.

The blinding glare of Basch's sword flittered in her mind's eye, and she tried to recall his stances and movements during his last fight. Perhaps, Mjrn thought, she could forgo formal training. Replaying scenes of his handling of greatswords instilled a fervent spark of confidence, just enough to encourage her to have a go at it herself, even if she was a novice, unarmed save her shapely feminine frame.

She sprung up and planted her stiletto heels, toughened her face, and firmed her soft lips. Basch's image flecked again and she adjusted her supple stance, gripping the morning air as she readied an imaginary greatsword over her head.

"I," Mjrn began, "am a strong wood-warder!"

Chit stared and cooed with amusement. Mjrn knew it was all unseemly, but she resumed her trial attempt. Basch's swings, she remembered, were exacting, calculative, and disciplined, hard for her to actually emulate even empty-handed. Maybe this was a ridiculous idea after all, she thought, but she would keep at it until she could muster up another idea.

"Mmmpfh!" she murmured, feigning Basch's final attack as she threw her arms down. Mjrn kept clenched her hands. She swung downwards, upwards, then sideways. Her silvery hairs whisking her cheeks with every wild swing. She would channel all energy through her hands, give it a mighty hurl which lobbed her buxom body one way, then she would rebound with gingerly hops, and then repeat.

"Ahem," Chit said, breaking Mjrn's grueling focus. "Are you trying to catch something? With your backside like that, your curves would be enough to disarm anyone."

Arms akimbo, Mjrn blushed from the racy comment. "Chit!" she said, then returning promptly to her invisible duel. "I am practicing. I may not need to train with real swords after all."

"But you must wield a real sword! The jungle is full of hazard. Remember the malboros. They are the worse!" crescendoed Chit with a yelp.

Mjrn recoiled. Malboros were one of the jungle's devilish horrors: tentacle-eyed and saber-mawed plant beasts of some sort, whose festering stench from their saliva defiled her virgin sense of smell. She had never encountered one directly, but seen it lurking, just ambling about once. She could smell its cloying fumes many paces away. Last time she escaped Mjrn was so blighted by the fetid stink that it had afflicted her with an upturned stomach and lopsided vision, almost blackening her out amid the jungle outskirts. "I can manage those," she said.

She persisted with the clumsy consecutive swings even if she was embarrassing herself and entertaining Chit. At one point the cockatrice pealed squawkingly with laughter. Collapsed on one side, he remarked about Mjrn's maneuver where she appeared to be flapping and launching skyward for the sprigged berries dangling above. And then Mjrn, in her peripheral view, could see the spheric Chit still overturned. His laughter had subsided, but still he tittered to himself, staring with quiet eagerness.

Mjrn ignored him and she burst again comically with her arms flailing in succession, but this time to test her endurance. Chit pealed again with virulent laughter and began lumbering sideways. Mjrn squinted a playfully angry look against the lighthearted cockatrice. Once their eyes locked together, Chit's beak was agape, and unable to rebound from his bungling position, Mjrn charged at him. A cockatrice shriek broke the calm meadow air, but Mjrn halted daintily her jousting attack. She threatened to roll Chit down the sloping clover hill instead.

Chit hooted and pleaded mercy. "Please! All in jest!"

"I know," she said, radiating a smile then pulling away.

Suddenly she remembered what Basch alleged about Archadian soldiers. His exact words were elusive and dim, but he had mentioned some of his men scattered in fortified checkpoints across the jungle routes. Perhaps there lingered a chance that a thoughtful soldier or two could heed her innocent request for safe passage.

Mjrn finally said "I will seek the Archadian soldiers for their aid. They will help me move through the Jungle, will they not? Basch told me this before he left. They are there."

"Oh, them," Chit scoffed.

Mjrn nodded with enthusiasm, still hopeful, and said: "Have you seen soldiers in the jungle?"

Chit ruffled. "A few were bunched up along the way. They make for Archades soon, however."

"They are leaving soon? But, why are they leaving?"

"Called back abruptly by the Judge, so I heard from one of the soldiers. The reason is a mystery."

"But when do they return back to Archades?"

"I am unsure," Chit said. "Should you desire to leave the Wood and ask for their help, you must decide now. They could leave anytime."

Mjrn became tense. She would have to leave the village today. Yet this event did not resonate with Basch's last words to her. Even if just a few days, the soldiers seemed to be disembarking too soon from the jungle.

Mjrn then asked: "Do you believe the soldiers will help me?"

"Escape?" Chit said. "I would say why not. They are in the jungle to watch for any impending trouble that would threaten the Viera and the village. I am sure you can explain your foibles, and they would assist."

Mjrn concurred with his point, and it deepened the justice of her decision.

"But for me a different story," Chit said. "I could not accompany you through these checkpoints though. Most times I play tricks on these Archadians just to return here. There's a warrant for my capture."

Capture? Mjrn was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I fear that I have attained official mark status. Rumors now spread prematurely about a cockatrice terrorizing city locals."

"They want to slay you?"

"Indeed. One of the soldiers attempted to take a stab at me. Another shot me while I skimpered away, but the sensation felt like being pelted with magicite shards. I did my best to inject reason, but Humes have not the ears for cockatrice speech, unlike the Viera."

Mjrn's heart firmed up from the injustice. "That is not right. But you have not been hurting others, have you?"

"I would not hurt another," Chit said. "Unless I am pecked, then peck back I shall. Hunts are for slaying beasts that threaten trade routes or maim without conscience. The petitioner who I have recognized as one of the unrulier skypirates seems to have the bill fabricated with untruths. Doubled up the reward too for the smug pleasure of it, just to see who would take up the trouble. But fear not, I am safe even inside many cities. Even the kind naturalists and researchers devoted to my kin's study give me their refuge. Friends outweigh my foes, my dear. You have nothing to worry."

Despite his reassurance, Mjrn realized the perils of his journeys. She imagined she would slow him down, attract attention, and endanger him to capture. "You do not have to aid me," Mjrn said. "My journey should not be your struggle. It is mine only. I have escaped this Wood before, have I not?"

"Yes, but," Chit said. "Where will you be? How will I find you? You will not be in the Wood anymore."

Chit's voice had dipped into a somber tone. Mjrn observed his owlet-like visage, the rueful glint in his eyes, and watched his sidelong glances. They were good friends bound by an unorthodox link, and perhaps Chit perceived her declared departure as unthoughtful of the fact. "I would never abandon you," Mjrn said. "Of course we will go together into Ivalice, but we must promise to meet again somewhere."

"That is encouraging," Chit said, Mjrn sensing his reclaimed spirit. "I know Viera in different parts of the world. But you cannot just travel forever. You, as the others, would have to settle down, take up a trade, even, as you live anew. Have you thought of a place?"

A seaport, Mjrn immediately remembered. "I dreamt of a port by the sea," she said, then turned a pensive inquiry into the air. "Or, was it a town?"

"Hm, seaports and seatowns." Chit paused a moment. "There are many. Perhaps you would expand on this place?"

Mjrn picked apart the dreamy shards and attempted to forge again the vision. Her hands clasped. "I had wondered of this place: I was an avion that flew above, but saw everything that had loomed below. It is a place of many faces. I remember the singing voices. There were Humes and many Seeq and Bangaa. I had thought the Viera among them, but I am not certain of this."

The details began to dissolve. Before she would forget, she shook her head then drawled the names she had recited before: "Boojerrba, Balfphonhaim, Pervahma. I do not know these names, but I am sure these were the words whispered to me."

"Balfonheim? Oh!" Chit said. "That one I do know quite intimately."

Mjrn's heart fluttered, mirroring his excitement. "Is Balfonheim the seaport in my dreams?"

"From the likes of it, yes," Chit said. "Pronounce it Bal-fon-heim. It is indeed a seaport beside the Naldoan Sea. Commerce between cities and sibling seaports circulate through it. Many goods freighted there by air and by sea. Mind you, it is populated mostly by pirates of sea and sky, but not all of them are a bad bunch. Many are simple people in love with seabound trades. A charming sight if you were to watch it all from the steppes."

Mjrn was unable to restrain her interest. Balfonheim, she repeated in her head. "Tell me more of this place."

"It is a wonderful town," Chit began and now bending his scaly legs into restful squat. "I regret not mentioning it before! It is full of beauty with vast seas seen afar. Freedom and adventure and exploration of faraway enigmas are highly regarded. Even for artificer or merchant, they adhere to such free-living ways which comprises the skypirate philosophy. And that has attracted all races: Humes, Bangaa, and Seeq who rather not live anywhere else. Some know a shade of the Viera story and their heritage from the Viera wayfarers who have journeyed there."

Mjrn pictured the free Viera smiling and content. "Then, it is true: they were there," she said, hands affixed to her cheeks with a winsome reverence.

Chit continued. "Indeed. I must add that the bazaars are abundant, quite abundant, with Ivalice's treasures. I fear myself sometimes of exaggeration, but when I say rare and common treasures from all cities are to be found, I certainly mean it! Gems and gemstones, gimlets and tomes and grimoires, arcana, magicites, crystals, flowers of many species and plenty of precious hand-held wonders, my dear. There happened to be a peculiar magicite I spied once, a deep black orb with the brilliancy of the night's constellations. Speaking of night, I have never seen a port's sky whose heavens were so luminous."

"I wish to see it one day." Mjrn cast a contemplative glance above, picturing the purity of the port's nightward expanse.

Then Chit asked: "Then it's settled? Balfonheim will be your new home?"

"Yes," Mjrn nodded eagerly, "if it is as beautiful in my dream and as you described it, then please - please meet me there."

A hearty Chit hopped apace. "You will love it! There is more to it, but I rather you see it with your own eyes. So then, we will meet again in Balfonheim. I can manage myself of course. You however must find an Archadian to escort you through the jungle. The jungle is the most difficult part!"

Even with future uncertainty and the ensuing farewell, Mjrn could sense Chit as a happy cockatrice again.

"What an undertaking before us! I wish I could applaud you," Chit said. "But I am a cockatrice and my limbs cannot reach."

"I will applaud for you," Mjrn smiled as she proceeded to clap her hands.

"What a witty Viera, this one!"

Chit's voice sloped into a loud whisper "But, you do know who you must go through first?" he looked around the meadows, clearly devoid of any eavesdropping Viera, then uttered "Your sister!"

This last confession to her elder sister was something she had already known. "This I must do alone," she said. Mjrn's heart was already astir with a poignant anxiety, sensing the emotional strife soon to divide them. It would be her second departure, and the last time she would see her people again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Dusk drew near the spacious Spiritwood Square. The air had cooled and the terrace receded into a soft orange glow. Oblique shadows trellised the beveled hardwood floors which were ignited by the descending sun. The circular fountain quieted into murmuring, its sparkle dimmed and all the florets washed into the vast depths. Deep green canopies waved, swayed, and for a moment, hushed backed into a bristling where lone blue moon petals would detach into separate flights.

Mjrn and Chit slid into cover near the annexed walkway. Jote was on the far end of the terrace. Only her backside and tressed hair were visible, with her hands resting nimbly over the amber baluster railing. She seemed to be musing into the distance. At one point, Jote slowly lifted her shoulders, then exhaled. Sad? Thinking? Praying? Mjrn thought, trying to read her sister's mood. Still, I must face her. That much is certain. The palpitating in her chest deepened.

"Hiding here makes us look sinister," said Chit, pecking at the chance moon petals which sputtered luminous spores when touched. Each lightburst emitted a bluish halo where any passerby could easily glimpse the long Viera ears poking upward, and next to it a massive cockatrice playing with the glowing airborne orbs.

"I know what I must do," Mjrn said, contemplating with a hand perched under her chin. "But I must gather my words"

"Are you afraid?" said Chit.

Mjrn nodded. She was anxious, but her attention was finally drawn to Chit's antics when a blue speck dashed her eyelashes, then popped.

Chit looked back at her. "Oi, stop starin' at me like that. It's unbecomin' ov yeh." He was feigning his old cockatrice accent. Even if Mjrn could make out the vulgar Valendian dialect, it was a trifle to understand.

"Chit, please," Mjrn said, knowing the cockatrice was drawing attention to them.

"I'm just kiddin' yeh. But you cannot wait forever."

He was right. The sun marched further, submerged further, and slipping away was her chance to seize the Archadians of their assistance before they would abandon the menacing jungle. She finally grew impatient of introversion and delay, and arising from her hiding, she avowed to simply let her unpolished thoughts spill into the sisterly encounter.

She walked hurriedly at Jote, then paced herself when she was close enough. "Sister," Mjrn said hoping to gently earn her sister's calm attention. "We must speak with each other."

"I know," Jote said, turning to face Mjrn. "Something troubles you."

Mjrn became alert to Jote's suspicion. It felt as if she had already envisioned this last meeting. Jote remained tranquil as if waiting for her young sister to confess first, as if she had already known the truth.

"I am leaving the Wood," Mjrn said. "I know how we have spoken of this before, but I have decided. I will leave today."

Jote closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. "I had known this already, Mjrn."

Mjrn's heart leapt. Drawn by the enigmatic confession, she walked closer. "What do you mean, sister?"

Jote turned to the distance. The yellow cryst in the sky had begun its decline, feathered wisps flared into the hazy horizon, and the forest canopies were aglow in a golden sheen. Moments of silence against the avion evening song, then Jote spoke again. "I knew your desires for Ivalice would not leave you. Your dreams grew stronger than the Wood's yearning for your return. Long ago I heard the whispers: you would wander Ivalice again and be among the Humes."

"And will you forsake me as you did with Fran?" Mjrn asked. She braced herself for the familiar answer.

At first Jote said nothing. "It is always the Green Word, the will of the Wood and the Viera."

Jote's reaction transpired as Mjrn had imagined, but she wasn't as broken as she would've thought, knowing her elder was tethered to Viera tradition, aligning with a higher good and adhering to the law even if her own blood kin would leave.

A rush of air enveloped them. An inhale, then an exhale. Mjrn's words touched not only her beloved sister, but the Wood whose mothering spirit was indwelt within the anima of all forest life. She felt sheltered and embraced, but suddenly Mjrn was struck by spurs of sadness where within her heart opened a chasm. She was sinking inside with melancholy. Inhale, exhale again came the gentle windstrokes, and lustrous blue spores skirted her ankles as they piled before her. The dying embers awakened memories of Chit's glinting eyes when she had confessed departing, which then tapered into a memory of Fran's fleeting return, then bitter departure.

Glowing tears, Mjrn thought, watching the dusky spores fade. This must be how a mother must feel to lose its wayward children. Whenever a Viera had left, the past became a bitter keepsake, a memory whose pain was expressed nightly as the fallen moon petals. Never before had it crossed her mind like this.

She understood, but the sad spectral collection continued its thrust. Mjrn felt the widening divide in her chest. She now sought forgiveness and desired to do penance and mend all heartbreak in a way the forest would understand, but she knew it was all just an ethereal projection stabbing into her aura and entrenching her in guilt.

Mjrn stood writhing and wincing. "Please, stop!" she pleaded, shaking the visions away. Her lips trembled, voice quivered, but she found her strength and held back. "It is not only you who hurts. Everyday, I suffer. I cannot know why I dream every night, or why the visions still come. It is not just the Humes I wish to walk among, but all people. I am always safe here, within the trees, but there too are Viera in Ivalice. I know they are happy. They may not hear us, but it does not mean that they have forgotten us. Why must we close them away forever? It is wrong! I want to live freely, for you and for Ivalice. This is what I want. It is my choice alone!"

Mjrn had shocked herself from the admission. For once the truth had simply flowed.

Jote turned to look at her sister. "Mjrn, I know the dreams drive you mad, but is it the cold armored Hume you long for?"

Mjrn fell silent. The cold armored Hume Jote alluded to was Basch. She pondered her words, then her true intent. Chasing Basch? Pursuing a Hume? She felt Jote misinterpreted her intent as some sensual chase for a Hume. She believed Basch's words, but she swore to herself that she was only allured by his wisdom and nothing more. Still she was rendered vulnerable by the question, and her true feelings had become too labyrinthine, too inflamed to understand at the moment. She merely shook her head.

"So many of our Viera the Wood has lost." Jote closed her eyes, as the wind ceased into the Wood's original calm. There was an exasperation and pensive defeat underlying her breath. "Go. I cannot stop you."

"I will always remain Viera of this Wood," Mjrn said, but Jote resumed her silence.

Mjrn slowly retreated into the opposite direction, towards the descending walkway. Both had said their piece and both were adjudged by the mother, but what remained was their individual sovereign choice. One remained devoted to the law, and the other declared her lifelong freedom. Mjrn was following into Fran's footsteps, and she saw how all three of them in the end had vigilantly dispersed in their own fateful ways.

Overlooking her shoulder came Mjrn's farewell: "Goodbye, sister," said Mjrn and she strode down the slope, never knowing if Jote had heard her last words, and never knowing Jote's true feelings.

Chit was eagerly waiting on the other end. "What happened?" he said with a hop.

Mjrn walked past him silently. "I can leave now," she merely said.

"Is that so?" Chit said with a probing look. "If you say so. We should go now. Nightfall swiftly approaches the jungle."

There was one more person Mjrn must confront. "I must look for our friend Nera," she said. She imagined that at least Nera would be happy and smiling.

"Oh, that is true," Chit said. "Poor Viera! We had not even told her yet."

The skies retained their lotus fire and the walkways had acquired from it their auroral light. Blue spores and green fireflies lofted and danced along the suspended walkways, emitting a placid light that showed the way. Mjrn and Chit scouted different verandas and enclaves of the upper forest. They finally found Nera entering through the forest gates where she had concluded her transactions with the traveling merchant Moogles. Nera's arrival soothed her stricken emotional state, and she ran up to her.

"Nera I am leaving," Mjrn said. "I had told Jote and she is letting me do as I wish."

"What a surprise. I am happy for you," Nera said smiling. "You are strong. What were Jote's words like? Not scathing, I hope."

"It is hard to speak of it," Mjrn said. "But, she said she cannot stop me."

"I imagine it painful for the both of you, sisters parting from each other, and from the Wood."

"It is, but, I had foreseen it before with Fran. I can live freely now." Mjrn now smiled. "Why do you not come with me? You had wished it before. Please," Mjrn said now placing her hands on hers. "It is our chance."

Nera paused for a moment then gently shook her head, "I cannot."

The impact of her words had frozen Mjrn in an unfathomable way. She had not foreseen saying goodbye to her only Viera ally and friend who had respected, honored, and shared the same desires, greater than any of the other Viera.

Mjrn shook away her disillusionment. "Why?" she said. "Was it not true before that you too wished to leave?"

Nera smiled. "I envy you at times," she said, both now holding each other's hands. "Yes, it is true I shared these dreams, but I fear I do not have the same strength to face our elder. My spirit I feel is not ready to leap into that world."

Already numbed and sapped of all emotions, Mjrn was lost. What remained was a void, and circulating within it was the thought of her leaving Nera.

"You must go," Nera nudged. "I know you have wished it much more than I have. It is not the end of us."

Mjrn simply nodded.

Nera kissed Mjrn on the forehead, then affectionately placed her hands upon Mjrn's cheeks. "One day when I am stronger, I will look for you."

After the parting kiss and seal of friendship, they embraced. As Mjrn detached herself, Nera nodded approvingly and said: "Do not stop now" and Mjrn, moving further away, ingrained the last glimpse of her friend's maiden face and smiling farewell. "One day...it is not the end of us... I will look for you" were acute words that throbbed and leapt until the sight of Nera's figure shrank against the growing distance.

"Hm, well," Chit said in a nervous quiver as they both proceeded into the magicite-lit tunnel. "I suppose we are off. Er, I hope we have everything!"

But Mjrn, pacing a small distance behind Chit, had half-regarded the statement. She staggered, walking unevenly with her fingers over her lips. Her eyes glistened where one tear coursed down her cheek, then visible streamlets finally formed. With hands now nimbly pressed upon her chest and unable to keep away her muted sobs, she finally collapsed onto her knees. Everything that had transpired cleansed and undone her knotted heart, but not without pain. She felt halfway to her destination, yet she was sunk with loneliness and exile despite her proclamation as a new Viera.

Her soft weeping continued to echo the cavernous tunnel. Chit had turned to notice her weakened state and promptly hopped over to comfort her.

"Oh," Chit said. "Do not cry. Here, use my feathers. I know I have not bathed for days but..."

"No, I am sorry," Mjrn said sniffling and wiping her tears. "I will be fine."

"If you say so," Chit said, voice now falling sotto voce. "But behold where you are now, my dear. You are finally here at Ivalice's doors."

Overcoming her last tears and wiping her forearm across her face, she stood up. She wobbled in the knees and endured breathing spasms, but she managed to recompose herself and push towards the tunnel's end where the tessellated cyan gate stood. Touching the aqueous surface of the gate, she artfully swirled her fingers and evoked upon it the ethereal key. New patterns emerged and the magickal glyphs diminished.

She paused to stare past the pale sheen. This was where she last saw Basch, Mjrn thought. She remembered again the sharp metallic scent and dark luster. For her, however, it was like the whisk of a silken cowl unraveling where she was bare and stripped of her previous identity: she was starting over, but sought renewal as she made way for Balfonheim, to finally rectify all the time spent dreaming rather than making true her last escape. Basch's resilient advice had now condensed into one word: "Fly."

And with the gates dissolved, she too vanished into Ivalice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9  
**

The Jungle was just as Mjrn had remembered it. An olive fog obscured the vicinity. Dense vines hung, looped, and flayed overhead into thick nets. Whatever life lurked within the mazy thickets were concealed by the deep greenery. The air was humid and stifling with heat, and suddenly the pungent odor of fungi and flowers hit her face. She sniffled, then sneezed with a squeak.

"Ah!" A startled Chit said as he turned around to face Mjrn.

"I am sorry," Mjrn said sniffling again. "I had forgotten about the air."

The walkways were dim and morbidly lit by tawny magicite lamps. Some lamps were aflame, some others obscured by lichen and moss. One along the way languished, horridly disfigured by ancient predatory vines which had claimed the lamps through the years. Some pink and blue-streaked flowers had opened their petals up, emitting yellow spores that lofted into the air. The sharp stench of a malboro filled Mjrn's nostrils, thrusting her more into the present truth: she and Chit now treaded into dangerous grounds. She couldn't mourn for long.

She seized her breathing, pausing in thought as her hair swept forward, and then tuned into the ambiance: strange avions chirped and croaked. Other wildlife hissed and howled. Mjrn flinched as a patch of green foliage snapped above her, then realized it had been a flurry of unknown avions breaking off. Farther away, she could hear what she figured to be a carnivorous bellowing, but at least nothing lurked within their immediate periphery. For every low contorted bleating or rattling, she could recall the exact species. She had remembered encountering them, seeing them along the way when she first escaped the jungle years ago.

Approaching the widened T-intersection that annexed the hidden village and the jungle, she noticed the strong stench came from the fresh corpse of an ashen malboro perishing in the open. Its bulbous eyes and slimy tentacles lay sprawled and lifeless. She was relieved however to find a familiar Moogle hopping exuberantly right beside it. It was Tetran waving and calling out to them. He was in his usual blackened armor and helm, with the notable yellow pom-pom protruding and bobbing from his head. He must've been the one who had finished trading with the village.

"Kupo? You sure don't look so pleased!" the muffled-toned Tetran remarked as he pinched his pink nose. "It's so smelly out here! Kupo!"

Mjrn smiled then likewise pinched her nose. "It is because of this malboro, is it not? Was this your doing?"

"Ah, this thing." Tetran glanced at the dead malboro where it lay agape and where worms and insects had begun to collect within its razored maw. Returning his attention back to Mjrn, he said: "Not me! Quite a big one for its kind, though. Those Archadian soldiers have been fighting and looting these monsters left and right and above! This was their biggest one, I think! And it stinks for sure. I can't believe they just left it here! Kupo!"

A silent Mjrn observed the vile dripping corpse and the insects now harvesting upon it. She couldn't recall the last time she had witnessed decay and rotting beasts, slowly realizing that there remained much to absorb again about the rift between Ivalice and the Wood.

Tetran looked over to Chit's direction, then with a charming tilt of the head, smiled squinty-eyed. "Chit, you are here too? Wonderful!"

Chit looked sick and with half-lidded eyes said: "Indeed I am, and on a serious errand, I suppose you can say. Ack, what a rank stench! We should not loiter here."

Mjrn lumbered away from the corpse. The invasive stink saturated Mjrn's nostrils. "Yes! Please, let us move away from this," she said.

"Right!" Tetran said, and he fluttered his wings, launched into the air and began a flittering skedaddle sideways. Chit and Mjrn followed. "Over this way. What brings you two out here? A Viera together with a cockatrice is a rare sight around these parts. And Mjrn, when was the last time you wandered so far from the village? Isn't that a blasphemy?"

Mjrn had not said a thing, unable to place her mind at the right condition to explain her plight to Tetran. Luckily, Chit intervened and said: "As they say in the city, it is a long story!"

"Yes," Mjrn nodded, now pleased that she wouldn't have to retell a tome's worth of detail. "I will not return to the village. I am headed for Balfonheim."

"Balfonheim?" Tetran said then pirouetted in the air. "How I wish I could return there! I could use a vacation! But it seems that would have to wait."

"If that is the case," Mjrn continued, "then which city do you travel to?

Tetran sighed, heaved. "The holy Mt. Bur-Omisace. Not that it's a bad place, I just detest wintry travel, especially through the mountains. So full of the nastiest undead!"

"Undead?" She said, pondering again faraway places and things which had eluded her.

"Yes! How depressing. Anyway, if you wish to journey to Balfonheim, you will need to find an airship to take you across the sea. At least that is the fastest way to travel there."

"Thank you for your kind advice," Mjrn said. "I had hoped to seek the aid of the soldiers here. Are they still within the jungle?"

"As I came to the village, they were taking their leave," Tetran said. "Over that way. Who knows if they are still there." The moogle launched inches above the ground and, suspended, pointed northward.

"What luck," Chit uttered in the same direction. "What wares do you have that could assist her journey?"

"Good question," Tetran said. "Let me find out. I had already forgotten what I've collected!" Metallic wares clinked and clanked as the moogle rummaged through his oversized sack. He then dove and burrowed until the ragged sack bulged and exploded its shape. He finally disembarked, but empty-handed. "I am sorry, Mjrn! I believe all I have is junk, nothing really to kill the ugly things around here."

"I see," Mjrn said. She wasn't displeased, but because of circumstance, she finally resolved to weave through the jungle without a weapon, relying merely on her Viera intuition to navigate the dangers.

"This jungle is not a great place to linger in," Tetran said. "What say you ride Chit out of the jungle? Wouldn't want you to get snagged in a place like this. It's faster!"

"I am no chocobo!" Chit said. "I would assist her, but my bodily shape is not fit to be saddled and ridden. We have planned to separate once we escape this jungle. There is a warrant for my capture! I cannot attract such attention to her."

"I see!" Tetran said. "Well, Mjrn, you had best be off. It is sunset and you know how this place can be. I must be off the other way. If you see those monsters, run!"

"That isn't so reassuring," Chit said.

"No, it is not." Mjrn said. She then snuck her gaze at Chit, observing his stature and imagining a way to climb upon him.

Chit took a defensive hop backwards. "You are not taking Tetran's idea seriously, are you?" Chit said.

"Perhaps!" Mjrn said smiling.

For a moment, something subtly usurped Mjrn's attention. It seemed a slight darkness arced into Mjrn's periphery, or that the faraway magicite lamps inflamed again their orange glow. Uncertainty stirred her heart when she remembered that they travelled unarmed, and that as nightfall lurked closer, the jungle's wildlife would soon overwhelm them. "We must leave now," Mjrn said.

Tetran launched again into the air. "Very well," he said. "Take care! Perhaps Balfonheim will be my next stop!

"Goodbye," Mjrn responded, casually waving and smiling.

Likewise, Chit cast his goodbye. "Farewell, dear friend," Chit said. "And do pay us a visit at the port."

After each one had given their adieus, Tetran smiled with a squint and then lobbed the merchant sack over his petite shoulders as he flew into the opposite direction. When he had reached a fair distance, he turned back around to wave his final hearty goodbye, then spirited off in the southward direction. Mjrn and Chit proceeded to walk northward.

The pair had soon arrived at another wide intersection. The platform was gently lit, much luminous and inviting than the confined walkways. A rawhide tent lay half-propped in one corner, and on another, some stacked crates with the Archaidan sigil imprinted upon each one. In the middle, a smothered campfire where a wisp of blue magicked smoke swirled up from its dampened crater. It seemed this site had been hastily abandoned, Mjrn thought, and she began rummaging through the vicinity.

Mjrn's attention was promptly drawn to the viny canopy which had been slightly peeled away to admit the sun into the camp site. The sun had shone down a faint orange pillar of light, bathing the platform with its remaining luminosity. Mjrn looked up, crossing her forearms as if to embrace herself, and attempting to see what she could, she imagined what the skies must be outside of the forest. While the light was sparse and dismissable by many, for Mjrn it was plenty. She resonated again with the same warmth and mystifying hopefulness captured from the Spiritwood Terrace. "I am closer again," she thought.

Chit seemed to be pecking at the tent. "I had caught a glimmer of some gimlet here," Chit said clumsily hopping about in an attempt to dismantle the tent.

Mjrn shook away her pleasant musing and walked over to the tent. Carefully and nimbly, she fluffed the rawhide fabric. Philters, pots, and pans snapped into their view, and the glimmer that Chit had indeed spotted illuminated from a silvery pendant. Mjrn's curiosity was drawn to it, and she reached for it.

The pendant was small enough to fit in one's palm and hold up to the light, like the Wood's key of privilege, Lente's Tear. Tipping it and examining it, she noticed a trellised and symmetrical design etched onto the charm. It was foreign to anything she's ever observed from the Viera or Moogle merchants. She glided her slender fingers over the embossed markings.

Chit peered over her shoulder. "That looks strictly Archadian," he remarked. "You can tell by the finely cut markings, though I hadn't seen anything like it at the shops or bazaars."

"Perhaps I should keep it?" Mjrn said.

"Of course! Those Archadian buffoons left it here for reasons unknown," Chit said, now approaching the pendant and staring closely, "and since it is so shiny with exotic embellishments and all, you should try to sell it at a shop. See how much gil it'll fetch. After all, you have no money."

"Ah, you are right." Mjrn said pocketing the charm. "I am without any gil to spend."

"The pendant looks valuable. I am sure it'll fetch you a worthwhile amount. So, no fear, my dear. Wait, that rhymed!"

Suddenly Mjrn felt an urgent pang. "I feel someone close," she said looking around, feeling an awkward aura lurking nearby. "It is strange. I can still feel the presence of iron and steel."

Suddenly three faceplated soldiers emerged, slowly rising from behind a stack of sigiled crates.

"Ho-oly Father of Faram," one soldier uttered, voice crescendoing, "-there it is!"

"I knew it was hiding in the damned village!" said the second one.

"Well? Be to it!" said the third.

"Aye aye!"

All three soldiers lurched for any weapon nearby before returning their attention to Chit.

Chit squawked. "Wait!" But the soldiers kept their swords pointed.

Mjrn emerged to intervene, "No! Please, he is my friend!"

But one soldier said "Keep away Viera, we had been on the lookout for this one for quite some time."

"That hefty reward will soon be ours!" another soldier said.

Mjrn intervened again. "Please, understand!"

"Step aside!" The same soldier said waving away Mjrn's plea.

"I told you," Chit said flopping sideways to dodge their sharp jabs. "No sense can be talked into these ones!"

"Then you must run!" Mjrn said.

"What, Viera?" One soldier said turning his attention to Mjrn.

Chit finally snapped away and fled towards one pathway.

"Oh no," a soldier said. "It's getting away again!"

"Chase it! Kill it if you have to!"

"Aye aye!"

All soldiers lunged and followed, but the cockatrice had outsped the entourage. It seemed Mjrn caught wind of his friend's fading farewell: "Remember: To Balfonheim!"

"To Balfonheim..." she rehearsed under her breath. She ambled a few steps towards Chit's direction before stopping herself. Chit's figure melted into the green distance then vanished as he jinked into a corner, the smoky plated figures lagging behind it.

The ruckus of armored shingles tapered off. Mjrn never imagined her parting with her only ally to be so forced and sudden. As the jungle chirruping, faraway howls, and her solemn breathing returned within earshot, she realized again the lonesomeness. Mjrn felt overshadowed with a familiar uneasiness. "I am frightened," Mjrn thought to herself. She proceeded northward where Chit had fled.

Jagged plants drooped like vines as if to capture any unsuspecting animal that wandered into it. Some thick vines overhead wobbled, suddenly snapping, and Mjrn would flinch. She could not sense a friendly aura nearby. Every checkpoint at an intersection wound up deserted which prompted Mjrn to hurry on forward.

Her attention was diverted to the leafy snapping from behind. She slowed down, paused, observed the substance of the sound - something had followed her. Mjrn would proceed again, and the unknown shuffling came closer within earshot. And then panic stirred when she sensed the prowling energy to be something dark and feral.

Mjrn turned to confront the source. The snapping became a rustling, then a hastened shaking, then ended until it reemerged as a serrated growl.

Fluttering, undulating panic. She took a hesitant step backwards. Was she imagining? No, she couldn't be: her Viera senses were too sharp, too pure. She wished to liquefy into some harbor of safety. She also wished to fight, but she was unprepared. The only intelligent and evident choice was to escape: to run for Chit, to reach for another kindred soul - _to run for Basch_.

_Run_ - was the advice of Tetran, and so she did. The growl snapped into a guttural gasp as it leapt after her. The lone clawed trotting and howling disfigured into a multiple clamor, and she could only conclude that a pack of hellhounds now pursued her. She wouldn't dare look behind and she kept her unarmed escape amid the humid jungle air. Closing her eyes, she prayed. Anything, she said, pleading for any benevolent force beyond the physical veil.

_"Get down!"_ came a female voice ahead. Mjrn opened her eyes and her vision revealed a Viera garbed in purple and black, but she couldn't make out the details as she acted intuitively on the other Viera's command. Mjrn tripped, rolled sidewise, and witnessed the violet inflamed wolfpack that approached her. A flurry of blue inflamed arrows dashed above her and thudded directly into one hellhound's eye. A painful yelp, then a number of swallowing thuds into the myriad of other glowing bodies.

A Seeq descended from the jungle canopy and with his falchion sword swept back the wolfpack in one concentrated swipe. Mjrn glimpsed the firetipped weapon as the Seeq continued to suppress the beasts until they started lumbering around, weakened by the Seeq's sudden blow and the arrows which protruded from their bodies. Some hellhounds immediately collapsed, corpses which now lay lifeless without their violet fire as they solidified into black obsidian.

The remaining wolfpack began their retreat. Mjrn heeded their wan glow, and so feeble were they that she imagined the Seeq could've obliterated them, yet he stood there, back turned, watching the predators limp away.

The wolfpack disappeared into the southward walkway. The Seeq snorted, sheathed his falchion, and turned to look at Mjrn. There was a grimace on his face which made her uneasy, but suddenly he smiled as he extended his stubby hand and said "Hello!"

Mjrn arose to recuperate from the situation. She was safe again but among the company of strangers. She hadn't seen a Seeq before, save for her dreams and the stories given by Chit. Mjrn noted his friendly aura and said: "Thank you for aiding me."

"Anytime, anyplace," the Seeq said in a notably guttural accent. He readjusted his bright green breeches and tattered leather hat. "So you are no wood-warder. Where's your weapon?"

Mjrn was embarrassed. "I am unarmed."

"Unarmed?" approached the other Viera from behind. "That's not a good idea around these parts. Especially at sundown? You're on a fool's errand."

Mjrn turned to finally see a Viera wearing a purple dress and black stockings. She had a longbow and gun notched behind her back. The plum purple beret and gold piercing on one ear seemed to accent her peculiar style, and she appeared more clothed for battle than Mjrn's counterparts at the village, despite the obvious physique.

"I am Eyna," the Viera said tipping her beret and jutting her hip sideways in a confident feminine pose. "Nice to meet you, even in such strange circumstances!"

"I am pleased to meet your acquaintance," Mjrn said.

"And I," the seeq intervened, bowing, "am Farood! Sole partner of our beautiful Eyna!"

"Yeah, I'm reluctantly your partner," Eyna sighed.

Mjrn smiled. "I am pleased to meet you, too."

"Alright," said Eyna. "What brings you out here where all the nasties are? It's feeding time for anything here with teeth!"

Mjrn tried to recover the proper words, but all she could admit was: "I head for Balfonheim. Although I am on my own, I have been told that I must head north and seek an airship."

"You're from the village, aren't you?" Eyna said, neglecting Mjrn's original concern.

Mjrn nodded.

"They allowed you to leave? Just like that?" Eyna said. The crescendo of curiosity was potent in her eyes.

Mjrn nodded, adding: "It is a long story."

"I know that saying," Eyna replied, then smiled. Eyna suddenly locked her arm with Mjrn's. "Come this way. There's a checkpoint up ahead."

"A checkpoint?" Suddenly Mjrn was ablaze with hope again.

"Yeah," Eyna said. "Archadians are packing up and ready to leave this place. Let's get out of here, shall we?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Eyna and Farood headed for Balfonheim's tropical port, but their reasons had differed from Mjrn's.

Continuing their passage through the jungle, Mjrn had learned that both Eyna and Farood hailed from The Ordalian Order of Sojourns, a joint fraternity of wayfaring researchers and explorers officially commissioned by both Archadia and Rozarria. Their unifying mission was to decipher Ivalice's remaining mysteries. Eyna surmised the fraternity's founding like an unspoken treaty which assured a partial peace between Ivalice's empires. Mjrn felt she could gain a fragile grasp of Hume politics and affairs.

Eyna and Farood were assigned to the region of Bancour, Ivalice's most Mist-veiled region extending to Golmore Jungle and the Feywood, but it seemed that now they would wrap up business and simmer down at the port.

"You seem really young," Eyna said. "But aren't you sad for leaving home?"

Mjrn carefully recollected her thoughts. "At times I feel uneasy," she said. "But I had always yearned to live freely. I have won my right, and I feel it best to leave my sadness in the past." Mjrn felt pleased that she could now comfortably admit the truth without the weight of remorse.

"You're a tough one," said Eyna. "Not many Viera can admit that. That takes guts."

Nera's final parting flashed in Mjrn's memory.

Farood whizzed his gray flabby body, now facing the Vieras and strolling backwards. "And just like our Eyna," he added, "she is like our big sister of the group. So tough and forthright!"

A smiling Eyna looked at Mjrn and waved away the Seeq's pronouncement. "Oh, they'll say things like that. But why did you leave? Is it just freedom for the sake of freedom? Something else, even?"

Mjrn acceded to the sharpness of the question. When Jote contended the same question, Mjrn felt powerless and condemned. From Eyna, however, she was at ease and relieved. But just freedom? Mjrn had no direct answer. Another vision flashed across her vision, but this time of Basch walking away in his tapering cape. "I am uncertain," Mjrn simply said, then pensively placing her hands on her chest. "The calling was too great, so much that I could not withstand it."

Eyna shrugged, then after a moment, said: "Sometimes we might not know why we're called to places beyond. You just get going and find out for yourself. That's what I did."

Mjrn agreed, and it seemed to reaffirm her unspoken feelings on the matter. "Those too are my thoughts. My desire would be so strong, but I could not explain how I truly felt to the other Viera."

"Well?" said Farood. "Aren't you glad you found us?"

Mjrn shyly acknowledged with a nod. "I am pleased to find allies outside the Wood." Unused to compliments, Mjrn quickly deflected attention to Eyna. "And had you left your village for the same reasons?

"Sure," said Eyna. "It's not easy at first. But I mean, can you imagine being cooped up in the forest your entire life? So much stuff goes on out here. How would you not want to escape? Anyway, I can tell you more once this is finished."

Mjrn noticed Eyna had alluded to the checkpoint up ahead. The familiar exit from years ago lay before her. Forced agape was a cleft where the gnarled vines revealed the annex between the jungle and the opening embrace of the Ozmone Plains and sister pastures. But before she would be free, nearby was the hold up by Archadian soldiers. Eyna held up a sigil pendant to the presiding Archadian soldier, but he swiftly moved in, fanned a spear to halt the Vieras and Seeq, and said "Wait! That other Viera-"

Another soldier chimed in: "It seems your pet beast escaped the jungle," smugly said the soldier. Mjrn sensed the hostility and identified the muffled voice to be the same Hume who had led the failed hunt for Chit. She assumed the begrudged Hume to be a senior officer. One of the other soldiers lay sprawled, and it seemed one fell asleep, telling from the slow rise and heave of his breastplate.

Eyna looked at Mjrn. "What does he mean?"

"My friend is a cockatrice," said Mjrn.

"Oh?" Eyna said. "We have so many of those in Rozarria."

"-Pfft, Rozarria." the Archadian soldier uttered.

Eyna shot her attention to the offending soldier. "What was that?"

Mjrn observed Eyna's defensiveness, but then Eyna said: "Nevermind, let me through. And leave her alone, she's with me."

"Not until the Archadian presence has cleared," said the soldier, his spear still defending their passing. Mjrn tilted her head to observe past the soldier and caught a glimpse of a few small airships and the calm pulsing whirl of their glossair rings. They were ready to disembark. One had already lifted from the grass and began the skyward rise. She was anxious to proceed further into the open.

"Oh, come on," Eyna said with a defiant stomp of her heel. "You already know who I am!"

The soldier grunted then looked at his fellow officer who was almost covered in a full steel carapace. He posed laxly against a rock, ankle crossed the other ankle, reading a map. The more riveted faceplate and sigiled plating had hinted at his seniority as a junior-ranking judge, although nowhere near the same intimidating elegance as Basch's outfit. The judge seemed to look up at the soldier who still stood silent as if to ask for a confirmation of how to proceed with the Vieras. No response: Facial expressions and precise emotions were indiscernible, just two faceplates staring at one another. The judge finally shrugged it off, readjusted his gaze below and continued to study his map. "Let them go," the judge finally said.

The bitter Archadian soldier turned again to the Viera pair, quickly waved them in and said: "Argh, fine be off then, Viera."

"Thanks," Eyna said, and she locked her arm with Mjrn, and Mjrn felt herself playfully tugged away, with Farood following closely. Hurrying a few paces away from the reluctant soldier, Eyna finally turned and stuck out her tongue: "-but no thanks!"

"Be off already!" The Archadian soldier gripped his weapon as if to chase them away, but stood his ground.

Mjrn and Eyna walked off. "Ugh, hotheads," Eyna said. "Why do the rank and file have to be so difficult!"

A palpable trickle rushed through Mjrn's chest. She found the previous scene of defiance thrilling. A small smile crept. "They had let us pass so easily," Mjrn wondered aloud.

"Yes, but worry not, Mjrn. Us Sojourns have the privileges since we are officially commissioned by the empires. They have to protect us whenever we stroll about." Eyna finally turned her direction to the soldier and hollered: "- including checkpoints!"

"Do you want to get hurt, Viera!" the muffled soldier was heard in the distance, almost ready to lunge after the pair.

Eyna pipped, giggled, and then tugged Mjrn with her. "I think I made him mad! Come on, this way."

Moongleams alighted the grassy slopes which weaved into the pastures, as if to unveil the natural way. Northeast, it seemed the horizon had captured its light from blue magicite. Steppes and plateaus sprouted grass tufts, and the canyon grooves cascaded like marble stairways, testament to the eons of erosion. Some pathways swung into the grassy fields like rivers. How elegant, Mjrn thought, and how she missed Ivalice's natural artistry.

The winds circulated the wide prairies. The murmuring exhale of the wind carried a dry grassy whiff which cued her to observe the faraway grasses being strummed under the starlight, pulsing with movement, like the sunbeams flecked upon the forest brooks. She remained faithful that Chit would safely reach Balfonheim.

Mjrn marveled at the small frigate gliding overhead. It was the last Archadian ship to leave the plains. The florescent cyan glossair rings slowly spun, silently awhirl as it propelled the metallic mass upward. It came to a pause as it reached a decent height, then gently pivoted as it switched its trajectory towards the northeast, bound for whatever destination it willed.

The airship emitted a quiet blue burst as it began its journey.

"We're heading the same way," Eyna said unlocking her arm from Mjrn's. Eyna then ran up to a smaller airship up ahead, and then she spun around and spread away her arms as if to present Mjrn their newfound prize. "Well, here's the airship we came in. Ever seen one like this? It's not much but it's fast and it can take us anywhere."

Mjrn was quietly impressed even if the detail was only dully illuminated under moon and starlight. She estimated the airship to be the size of a 24-chocobo caravan lined up from head to tail, yet the airship was smaller than an Archadian frigate. The engravings along the wings had swirled and swooshed and were perfectly symmetrical.

"I had not seen an airship such as this before," Mjrn said referring to the peculiar wingspread. Mjrn ran her fingers along the trellised grooves underneath, noting the foreign but beautiful markings.

Eyna smiled. "It's a Rozarrian Combat Fighter. It's not like those big airships. Archadia has plenty of their own. We can maneuver and get around more easier like this. The wings go like this," Eyna brought up her hands and imitated the forward swept motion of the airship.

"Like an avion?" Mjrn said.

Eyna snapped her fingers. "Yes, that's right! Just like avions. That's why these combat fighters are such a treat to have. They're pretty fast and mobile."

"Ah, I see," Mjrn said happily grasping the concept between airships and an avion.

The jogging of metal approached from behind as Farood ran past the Viera pair and towards the ship. "We make haste for the skies! I tire of plains and jungles. I will make some final checks: Hopefully those rabble-rousing Archadians hadn't touched our Rozzarian beauty!

Eyna acknowledged and returned her attention back to Mjrn. "If you really want to get around Ivalice, get something like this," said Eyna with a wink. "Come on, let me show you inside."

The Vieras entered the ship, and the airy world Mjrn knew shrunk into a compact metallic corridor. The clacking of their heels bounced back a hollow resonance against the paneled floor. Mjrn would outstretch her arm and slide her hand gingerly along the metal panels, touching riveted air vents and cold steel panels and feeling the air brush through her fingers. Mjrn could hear the idle droning hum that came from underneath her feet. Perhaps it was the glossair rings, like the pulse and heartbeat of a sleeping avion.

They entered a room lit by white magicite lamps which bathed everything in a comforting luminescence. Eyna motioned Mjrn to sit down with her on a red ringed plush couch which had encompassed an ivory table. It was the main room, Eyna had said, and as Mjrn sat down, a blue holographic map burst and cascaded upon the table which was emitted from a brown metallic device. The blue beams carefully traced a map above the table.

Mjrn was struck with marvel, then realized that the map now fully manifested was Ivalice glowing before her.

"Is this - Ivalice?" Mjrn asked.

"That's it alright," Eyna said. "The Sojourns updated it recently. And here's Balfonheim-" Eyna then traced her finger midair. "This is where you want to go, right?"

Mjrn nodded, filled with warmth, relief, and happiness.

"Well, good!" Eyna smiled. "Just making sure."

Somewhere came a mechanical hiss. "Almost there," Farood declared from the adjacent room which Mjrn figured to be the cabin. Then he finally said: "Got it!" A louder hiss erupted, then computerized beeps until everything soothed into a slow upward whine. "Success! It's all good," Farood finally said. "Farewell Bancour, we are off to Balfonheim!"

Mjrn pipped as she felt the airship jolt, then rise. She braced herself. It was much faster than she had imagined, believing it would be as graceful as the Archadian ships that she observed.

"Don't worry," Eyna said. "This ship is stable, it's just a little shaky at first," then Eyna turned her attention to the adjacent room, "-Farood, steady as she goes. Don't go so fast, either."

"Aye," the hearty Seeq said, "I'll take it easy for our new guest!"

Eyna smiled, returned attention back to Mjrn. "There's always a first time," she said, then seemed to look around. "But I think Farood should have had this airship repaired sooner. She takes a bit too long to start sometimes. Anyway, would you like some fruit?" Eyna held up a red and orange streaked pulp. "It's Cactus Fruit from the Dalmascan deserts."

Mjrn accepted the fruit and took a gentle nip. It was sweet and satisfying. She acknowledged her growing appetite.

Eyna lifted the same bulbous fruit to her mouth and bit into it. The clear juices seeped before sputtering onto Mjrn's face.

"Whoa!" Eyna said. "I'm sorry!"

"Oh, do not worry," Mjrn said squinting and gently wiping her face. Mjrn felt something awkward about this foreign Viera. While Eyna was oddly ungraceful, Mjrn felt she could invest trust in her newfound ally. Eyna pulled out of her brown satchel a clean white handkerchief which Mjrn happily took. Suddenly, the offering aroused a memory of her friend Nera and their times together near the forest brooks. Mjrn was pulled away from the memory when Eyna spoke.

"So," Eyna said, musing upwards, still unmindful of her sloppy munching. "I don't think I want to come back to Golmore. Humid jungles just aren't my thing."

Mjrn was impressed with not just the carefree way Eyna carried herself, but her fearless aura. "Are you not afraid of what lurks here?" Mjrn asked.

"Huh? You mean in Golmore?" Eyna said.

Mjrn nodded.

Eyna swallowed her fill and then laughed, waved dismissively. "Of course not! It's not as bad so long as you travel in groups."

Perhaps, Mjrn thought, it was time to place some trust into Eyna, and it prompted Mjrn to reveal her true concern: "Have you seen Basch?" Mjrn paused for a moment to recollect the proper words. "Ah - a Hume in dark armor?"

Eyna had perked up. Mjrn looked into the foreign Viera's eyes and took heed of her arched eyebrow.

Eyna finally answered: "Yes, I think we did. The bullhorned one, right? We stepped aside when they passed. Didn't want to get in his way, ya know? Scary person."

Mjrn nodded in acknowlegement, pleased with the answer that she was heading in the right direction. "Do you know where he may be heading?"

"Not sure. Why?" Eyna said.

The curt question surprised Mjrn, and she noticed again Eyna's quizzical face, sensing her underlying but gentle suspicion, but Mjrn confidently admitted to her: "We had known each other."

"What!" Eyna said, now agape and taken aback with widened eyes. "Are you sure?"

Mjrn nodded again, though now confused with Eyna's surprise. "Yes. He is the Judge Magister. He and his friends had once rescued me from harm, but it was long ago."

Mjrn now saw a delighted Eyna who had her hands gingerly perched under the chin with utmost curiosity, and this made Mjrn happy. Mjrn proceeded to retell the events that had led up to the recent past. The images of her old history would return: Fran, Mjrn's curiosity and seeking the Archdians, her capture and manufacted nethicite - Basch and Archaidans storming the village to find skypirates and Archadian dissenters. Dreams of the Occuria.

"So that's what all that loud noise was in the Jungle. I thought it was something nasty that the Sojourns forgot to note. Well Mjrn, you're certainly an interesting one: Knowing the Judge Magister and escaping the jungle all by yourself. You're very brave."

"Ah, but it was not without the aid of my dear friend."

"Oh? The cockatrice?"

Mjrn nodded. "Without him, I would have dwelled forever in the Wood."

"I love the way you talk," said Eyna.

The conversation had taken a suddenly odd turn. The upfront compliment made Mjrn bashful, and she nervously patted her silvery hair. "Ah - Why is that?" she asked.

"Oh, I dunno, you sound so dreamy when you talk." Eyna leaned closer almost as if to kiss her. Eyna looked deeply into her, then at her lips, then back into Mjrn's eyes. Mjrn froze, the glint in Eyna's eyes now noticeable, uncomfortable as she speculated Eyna's suddenly intimate approach.

Farood could be heard galumphing into the room where he started to utter: "Well bunnies, it seems we're surely... Whoa." Farood's words had ceased upon the unsettling scene of the two Vieras. Mjrn snapped away upon Farood's arrival, and despite her light mocha-skinned complexion, she was flushed hot with awkwardness and embarrassment and could only observe Farood's agape bewilderment.

Eyna smiled wryly, pulling away. "Yes, Farood?" she said turning her attention to the Seeq.

"What in freaky Faram was that?" Farood said.

"What's what?" said Eyna.

"-that," Farood merely said.

Eyna heaved, pouted. "What? We're friends! Right Mjrn?" Eyna locked arms with hers as if to claim her.

Mjrn nodded, deciding to simply comply. "Very much so."

Eyna crossed her legs, seemingly pleased and shot a confident smile at Farood. "See?"

Farood merely shrugged. "Right, well, we're over the sea now, but we're surely heading for Balfonheim's coastline. All systems nominal, so feel free to, um, make yourself comfortable during the trip." He walked back into the room to resume his work. His voice emerged again, but muffled and distant: "-but not too comfortable!"

Eyna unlocked herself from Mjrn, arose. "Well, we're almost there." Behind the couch was a wide round window which revealed the entire view that looked from behind.

"Well," Eyna said, "I will change. It might be a while until we reach the port."

Mjrn nodded. "May I rest here?"

"Of course. You're our guest, so treat it as your home, too. I will wake you up once there. I know you're exhausted."

Indeed, Mjrn was tired. She thanked her ally, and Eyna exited into the corridor.

Mjrn laid her head on her arm, staring deeply out the window to see the newfound sight. The Ozmone plains were gone, and so too the Jungle. Her reflection was blurred and vaguely visible from the window, but beyond that, the sky reflected the gentle blue fire of everything that she had remembered. It seems the entire sky, even Ivalice, was hers again. It was just as she remembered: The same burning distance, but alighted by the moon and stars. The swelling content in her heart was hard to contain: She was free now and floating in the skies, just like in her dreams.

But before closing her eyes, she realized she had forgotten to ask Eyna one more question:

_What was Eyna's true business in the jungle?_

Just research for the Sojourns? Yet Mjrn's exhaustion had compelled her to forget it, and the whimsical question tapered away. Mjrn took out the charm that she had pocketed from the abandoned Jungle encampment, looking it over one more time. She stared again at the Archadian engravings, tapping her long fingernail against the material, struggling to stay awake. But Mjrn could no longer fight the fatigue, and she slowly closed her eyes. Her last vision was the bright blue streamlets spraying from the engines and over the moonlit sea.

Mjrn had finally fallen asleep, with the charm resting on her open palm.


End file.
